Lost and Found
by Kenya Starflight
Summary: Optimus Prime finds himself with a new, daunting responsibility when Wheeljack's latest invention accidentally turns Megatron into a sparkling. Shameless cuteness ahoy!
1. Chapter 1

In hindsight, Optimus Prime would muse at a later date, perhaps it hadn't been smart to stop at Wheeljack's work space and check up on his latest project on his way to have Trailbreaker look over and fine-tune his rifle. But it had seemed a good idea at the time - the Autobot scientist was bright, no question about it, but keeping a close optic on him and his tinkering was important. Left to his own devices, his inventions and projects could raise no small amount of chaos.

Normally he trusted the other scientists and technicians to keep tabs on Wheeljack's projects, but as he scanned the labs he realized that everyone here was too preoccupied with their own work to do so. Perceptor and Skyfire were deeply engrossed in a study of a starmap in one corner of the room, while Trailbreaker tinkered with the internal components of Tracks' black-light ray in another. There was no sign of Hoist or Beachcomber - the former was in the repair bay helping Ratchet finish up the final repairs on those wounded in the last skirmish, while the latter was out on a beach patrol with Hound and Seaspray. It seemed that, if he wanted this done, he'd have to do it himself. Suppressing an urge to sigh, Prime stepped up to Wheeljack's workbench to check things out.

Wheeljack didn't even look up as Prime moved to stand beside him. "Heya, Optimus. Give me a second to solder these wires and I'll be right with ya."

"I wasn't informed you had a new project in the works, Wheeljack," he replied, setting his gun on the workbench and leaning forward to investigate. "What are you up to?"

"Nothing fancy," the engineer replied, finishing up with the wiring and shutting a panel on the device. "Just preparing an upgrade on the immobilizer."

Prime suppressed the urge to groan in dismay. The memory of Wheeljack's first attempt at an immobilization device was still fresh in his memory banks - that gadget had fallen into the Decepticons' hands and caused no small amount of chaos before Ironhide had finally destroyed it. He wasn't one to call for the suppression of developing new technology, but still, this was a war, and even the most innocent of inventions or discoveries could cause untold harm if the enemy got ahold of it.

"Are you sure that's a good idea, Wheeljack?" Prime asked. "Remember the last time..."

"Oh, I remember the last time," Wheeljack assured him with a dismissive wave of a hand. "That's why I'm taking extra precautions this time." He held it up for Prime's inspection. "Whatcha think?"

Prime cocked his head to one side as he regarded the new immobilizer. Where the first version of this device had resembled an orange half-sphere with a reflector dish on top, this one was gun-shaped, shiny white with a black grip and tiny green lights running down the barrel. It looked more like a weapon than a technological device... though maybe that was the point.

"There's an extra feature in this one," Wheeljack explained, pointing to the grip. "I've installed sensors in there that'll scan the spark energies of whoever's holding it, and the weapon'll only activate if someone authorized to use it is holding it."

A knot of tension that had been forming in Prime's chassis eased at that. "Who has authorization to use this?" he asked, handing the device back.

"Well, seeing as that's a prototype, just you, me, Ratchet, and Perceptor at the moment," Wheeljack replied, setting it back on the workbench. "Once I've gotten approval from the entire command to make the final product, I can add the rest of the officers to that list, or anyone else you think can use it responsibly."

Prime nodded. "Well done, Wheeljack. I'm glad you've taken proper precautions this time."

Wheeljack's headfins flared pink, as if he were blushing a bit at the praise. "Aw, shucks, Prime, even a stubborn old model like me knows to learn from his mistakes..."

The alarms went off at that moment, cutting off whatever else Wheeljack had to say. In the back of the workshop, Perceptor and Skyfire looked up sharply from their work area, and Trailbreaker swore as he dropped something out of surprise.

_Red Alert, situation update,_ Prime barked, opening a communications line to the security officer.

_Decepticon attack, what else?_ Red Alert replied, his tone bright with near-panic. _Megatron, Soundwave, and Seekers approaching from the sky, Constructicons and triple-changers from the ground! They're closing in on the base entrance, ETA three minutes and counting!_

_Seal off all entrances save the main,_ Prime ordered, then opened the channel to include all his troops. _Autobots, roll out! Prepare to engage! Medics, report to the repair bay. Aerialbots, prepare to give us cover._

_Roger, Prime,_ Silverbolt replied.

_Primus fraggit, I just finished the last batch of repairs,_ Ratchet grumbled.

Wheeljack reached for his missile launcher, only for Prime to put a hand out to stay him.

"I want you to help Ratchet prepare the medbay," Prime ordered the engineer. "We have plenty of soldiers, but only so many medics."

"Yessir." Wheeljack turned and bolted out of the lab. Prime paused only long enough to snatch up his rifle before hurrying out as well, followed closely by Skyfire and Perceptor.

Trailbreaker was the last one out, and as he passed by Wheeljack's work station he caught sight of something odd - Prime's gun. Hadn't he grabbed it before leaving? Reminding himself to ask about it later, he ran to catch up with the others.

* * *

><p>"Decepticons, attack!"<p>

Prime felt hands slam into his back, shoving him to the ground. One of Skywarp's missiles shrieked overhead, missing him and his rescuer by a hand's breadth.

"Thanks," Prime sighed, turning to face his benefactor.

"Me Grimlock not always be here to save you Prime's aft," the Dinobot leader snorted, then thundered away, sword drawn and a titanic roar ripping from his vocalizer.

"Nice fella," Jazz quipped, smirking a little in Grimlock's direction before bending down to pull Prime to his feet.

"Give him credit," Prime advised, accepting Jazz's hand and pulling himself upright. "He's learning to be somewhat civil."

While Jazz busied himself with firing at an oncoming Seeker, Prime took a quick moment to survey the fighting. As far as he could tell, there seemed to be no real purpose for this attack, or if there was one it wasn't evident at first glance. Megatron periodically led his troops out on raids and skirmishes for what seemed to be no reason, and this looked to be one of those. Perhaps it was the Decepticons' version of a training exercise... or maybe it was just to let Megatron's troops burn off some energy at the Autobots' expense.

He shifted his gun to both hands, scanning the battlefield for any sign of the Decepticon leader. It was one thing to fight Megatron to keep him from harming the humans or gaining some kind of advantage in this war, but he refused to let his troops be punching bags for the Decepticons simply because they were bored. He would put an end to this right now, before Megatron could inflict more damage.

The trees fifty feet to his right lurched and shuddered, as if they were trying to uproot themselves and join the fight... then exploded into a shower of burning shrapnel as Megatron gave up pushing his way through and simply blasted a path through them. His silver armor gleamed with savage gold highlights from the flames, and his mouth stretched in a grin of feral glee as he raised his cannon-arm to take aim at the Prime.

"Optimus!" he snarled. "Prepare to face your doom!"

Prime couldn't suppress a snort of amusement. That was the best line he could come up with?

"Not today, Megatron," he retorted, and he swung his gun in Megatron's direction, squeezing the trigger.

The gun didn't fire, only clicked in response. With a jolt of horror Prime wondered if he'd forgotten to recharge the power cells... Then the weapon hummed and vibrated in his hands, as if powering up for something.

Then he realized that his gun had never been white before, or possessed lights running down the barrel...

"Hey, ain't that 'Jack's new prototype?" Jazz asked, just as the immobilizer went off. Prime jerked back from the force of the recoil as a sphere of glowing blue plasma the size of his fist burst from the gun's muzzle, streaking toward Megatron with a horrific screech like a bottle rocket.

Megatron's optics widened in shock, and he made as if to take to the air... but the blast reached him first. It impacted against his chest, throwing him back into the flaming trees and out of sight. There was a thud as he hit the ground, a sputtering flash of blue light... then silence.

Prime stared at the area where the Decepticon leader had fallen, shock driving all thought from his CPU. Jazz, too, stared, mouth open and weapon-arm hanging loosely at his side. It would have been the perfect moment for the Decepticons to take down the Autobot leader and saboteur, except that most of them were also gawking at the spot where Megatron had vanished, optics wide, mouths gaping.

Starscream broke the silence with a shrill, triumphant cry. "Megatron has fallen! I, Starscream, am the leader of the Decepticons now!"

"Oh, stuff it, Screamer!" Blitzwing snapped. "Let's get outta here before Prime decides to use that thing on the rest of us!"

"What?" Starscream snarled, rounding on the triple-changer. "You dare usurp my authority?"

"I'm on his side for once," Thundercracker put in, taking to the air. "I don't know WHAT that thing did to Megatron, but I ain't sticking around to see what it can do to me." And with that, he transformed and took off. Skywarp was close behind, and soon all the Decepticons were fleeing the battlefield, opting to save their own plating over coming to their fallen commander's aid. Even Soundwave, notorious for being loyal only to Megatron, abandoned the battlefield, though not without a last look at the trees as if hoping the warlord would emerge from hiding.

"I work with a bunch of cowards!" Starscream spat, and offered Prime a withering glower before taking off to pursue his troops.

Jazz finally snapped his mouth shut, his gaze moving from the trees to the departing Decepticons. "Well, that worked out. Shortest battle ever, an' I ain't complainin' about that."

"What precisely happened just now?" Prowl demanded, hurrying up at that moment. "Is Megatron... deactivated?"

Prime finally managed to kick his vocalizer into gear again. "Not deactivated," he replied, raising the prototype for Prowl and Jazz to see. "If this worked according to Wheeljack's expectations, he should be alive but immobilized."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "That's a considerable 'if,' sir. With all due respect to Wheeljack, his prototypes rarely work according to plan."

"Still, Megatron's down and obviously ain't gotten back up yet," Jazz pointed out. "That's gotta count for somethin'."

"All the same, I would feel a lot more comfortable if we were sure," Prowl replied.

Prime nodded in agreement. "Prowl, Jazz, cover me. I'm going in."

The tactician and saboteur both nodded, and they flanked Prime as he made his way toward the still-burning remains of the trees. Inferno was there, standing a safe distance back as he doused the flames, but left off at a gesture from Prowl. Cautiously, every servo tensed to spring should Megatron come out fighting, the Autobot leader pushed through the charred trunks and strained to see through the smoke and steam, looking for any sign of the fallen Decepticon warlord...

He heard him before he saw him - and the sound made him freeze in his tracks. It wasn't a moan of pain, not exactly. More like a whimper... a whimper that sounded far too young - and far too frightened - to belong to Megatron. Puzzled now, Prime reached out and pulled aside the blackened, crumbling remains of a fallen tree, revealing the source of the noise.

"Oh, Primus almighty," Jazz murmured.

"What in the..." began Prowl before his voice trailed off.

Prime just stared, rendered speechless for the second time in less than five minutes. A tiny silver mech stared back at him with wide red optics, shaking in terror. His once-bright armor was smeared in ash and soot, his optics were seemingly too large for his rounded face, and his arm cannon was gone entirely, but there was no mistaking who this mech was. But... it couldn't be. It just wasn't possible...

Ironhide burst onto the scene at that moment. "What th' frag's goin' on here..." he began.

Jazz stepped to the side, offering the van an unobstructed view of the little mech. Ironhide blinked, gaping in shock for a fraction of a second. Then he sputtered incoherently for a moment before managing to speak.

"Primus on a stick! What th' frag turned Megatron into a sparklin'?"

Megatron - for Prime finally acknowledged that Ironhide was right, this could be no one else - gave a high whine of fright and curled up in a ball, hiding his face in his arms.

"Aw, ya scared 'im, 'Hide!" Jazz chided, thumping him on the arm.

"So?" Ironhide snapped. "Ol' Slagmaker's done enough scarin' in his life, he could use some in return..."

"He ain't a slagmaker anymore," Jazz retorted. "I mean, look at 'im... he's kinda cute actually..."

"Enough," Prime ordered, cutting the two mechs off. "Fighting is pointless right now. The important thing now is to get him back to base..."

"You're not serious, are you Prime?" Prowl cut in, giving his commander an incredulous look.

"Perfectly serious," Prime replied. "I want him looked over for injuries... and I want a word with Wheeljack. He's got a LOT of explaining to do."


	2. Chapter 2

If any Autobot thought that Wheeljack had botched his immobilizer prototype on purpose, the engineer's expression of dumbfounded shock would have convinced them otherwise. By the time Optimus Prime was done recounting the effects of the device on Megatron, his optics were open so wide Prime was afraid his optic shutters might have locked in place.

Prime couldn't really blame him for being so shocked. He was having a hard time believing this had happened himself, and he had actually seen it happen.

"Well?" Prowl inquired, arching an optic ridge at the scientist. "Do you have an explanation for this?"

Wheeljack finally managed to kick his vocalizer into gear. "It wasn't supposed to do that!"

"We presumed as much," Prowl replied sardonically. "You DID test this device, didn't you?"

"Only on inanimate objects!" Wheeljack insisted. "It wasn't ready for a live testing! It wasn't even supposed to leave the lab!"

"Calm down, Wheeljack," Prime ordered, raising his hands in a placating motion. "You are not to blame for this incident - it was a freak accident. But if you could tell us more about how this device works, perhaps we can figure out just how it went wrong." He pulled the immobilizer from subspace and placed it on the workbench. "That way, we can hopefully guard against another occurrence."

Wheeljack cycled a sigh of relief as he pulled the weapon closer, obviously relieved that he wasn't in trouble and that his prized invention had returned to him unscathed. "Basically, the immobilizer slows down time just around the target," he explained. "It can be set to different levels, so that it just slows down the target or, if cranked up high enough, stops them entirely. It operates on temporal energy - the kind that surrounds Dinobot Island, but in small enough amounts that in theory, it shouldn't alter the timestream."

"In theory," Ironhide grumbled sarcastically before Prowl elbowed him in the side to shut him up.

"So how do you think it went wrong in this case?" asked Prime. "Perhaps the power was up too high?"

"Could be it," Wheeljack replied, ignoring Ironhide for the moment. "Cranked up so high that instead of slowing time down, it reversed it and reverted Megatron to his sparkling days." He gave a little chuckle. "Sure that was a sight to see... wish I could have been there."

"Is there a way to reverse the effects of the... immobilizer?" asked Prowl, clearly reluctant to even call the device an "immobilizer" anymore.

"Ya know... I'm not sure," Wheeljack admitted. "I hadn't gotten around to seeing if that was possible."

"So in th' meantime, we're stuck with a mini-Megatron in our base," Ironhide growled. "That's just slaggin' great."

"Would you rather we had a full-size adult Megatron in the base?" asked Prowl, tilting his head inquiringly in the Nissan's direction.

The workshop went quiet as everyone present pondered the same question - what would happen now? Knowing how Wheeljack's device had affected Megatron was all well and good, but now they had to deal with the consequences. And no one had the slightest idea what to do. There was no protocol whatsoever for this kind of situation, no precedents to draw from. It wasn't as if the sworn enemy of the Autobots suddenly became a child on a regular basis.

"So uh... what now?" Wheeljack asked, voicing everyone's thoughts at the moment. "Want me to work on that reversal?"

"For now, yes," Prime replied. "The officers will decide what to do about Megatron."

"Ain't it obvious, Prime?" asked Ironhide, the beginnings of a grin forming on his faceplate. "We got Megatron, an' he ain't in a position t' fight back. We can lock 'im up for good! Or even be rid of 'im entirely. We might never get this chance again..."

"You're NOT implying what I think you're implying, are you?" Prime asked, narrowing his optics. He knew the old warrior had a tendency to want to solve every problem with fists and firepower, but this kind of cold-oiled assessment was shocking even for him. "We are Autobots. We don't take life unless it's absolutely necessary. And may I remind you that this is a sparkling we're talking about..."

"Ah don' care if he's a sparklin'!" Ironhide retorted. "It don't change th' fact that it's Megatron! He's guilty of enough crimes t' short-circuit Teletraan-1! If we don' do away with 'im now..."

"Ironhide!" Prime snapped. "Do you honestly think there's a single mech in our forces who would be able to put a gun to a sparkling's head and pull the trigger? Because that is exactly what you're proposing."

Ironhide opened his mouth to retort, but no sound came out. He shut it slowly and just stared at Prime, as if that had only just occurred to him.

"While I disagree with Ironhide on terminating Megatron," Prowl put in, "I do think it's in our best interests to keep him under guard and locked up for the foreseeable future. The effects of Wheeljack's last version of the immobilizer were temporary, if you recall, and we have no proof that the effects of this version are any more permanent. He could return to his normal age at any moment... and if he were unguarded at that moment, it could be disastrous."

Ironhide nodded emphatically, and even Wheeljack looked worried at Prowl's explanation. Prime touched a hand to his chin as he considered the tactician's words. Logically, he knew his second in command was right - they had no idea if the immobilizer's effects were permanent or not, and there was always the risk that he would go back to normal... and take out his humiliation on everyone around him. The safest course of action would be to lock him in a secure cell and keep him under watch until he returned to normal, then decide what to do with him from there.

But he couldn't erase the image of the sparkling's terrified optics from his CPU. That's what all this boiled down to - like it or not, they weren't dealing with an enemy commander, but a child. And Megatron or not, was it fair to subject a child to treatment like this?

Wheeljack spared him from further mental debate by speaking up. "Ya know, I wouldn't mind a look at Megatron. Maybe if I had a chance to study him, I could figure out what went screwy with my invention. Where is he now?"

"In the medical bay, under guard," Prime replied. "I'll go with you - as a sparkling, he's harmless, but all the same, I'd rather be safe than sorry by this point."

* * *

><p>"If you're here to gawk, get out," Ratchet snapped as Prime and Wheeljack walked in, not looking up from the wash basin where he was cleaning a few tools. "Primus fraggit, if I'd wanted to make a sideshow of this, I would have sold tickets..."<p>

"Easy, Ratch, I'm just here to take a few scans of the new patient," Wheeljack assured him. "And Prime's here just in case something goes wrong."

Ratchet glanced up, and his scowl lessened by a fraction when he saw who the newcomers were. "Sorry... we've just had so many mechs barging in here to point and stare that I've seriously considered stationing the Dinobots outside to chase the rubberneckers away. And if it's scans you want, I've beat you to that." He set the tools aside and motioned Wheeljack over to a workbench, picking up a scanner.

"Whatcha got?" Wheeljack asked, moving to stand beside the medic and setting the immobilizer down on the bench.

"Absolutely nothing," Ratchet complained. "No unusual energy readings, no obvious glitches or damages, nothing but some dirt. He's completely healthy, and aside from the fact that I've got the Great Slagmaker himself as a sparkling in my medbay, everything checks out as completely normal."

Wheeljack's headfins blinked a disappointed indigo. "Well, that gives us nothin' to go on."

"I know," Ratchet replied, his scowl returning in full force. "Means there's no easy reversal to this. We may have to deactivate the immobilizer until we have a better idea of its effects."

While the medic and scientist discussed the device and Ratchet's findings, Prime turned his attention to the berth where Megatron now sat. Obviously nobody was taking any chances - Mirage and Trailbreaker flanked the table, guns drawn, visors fixed on the sparkling as if expecting him to jump up and attack at any moment. The sight of such a tiny, harmless-looking mechanism warranting an armed guard was quite out of the ordinary, but then, what about this situation was ordinary?

The subject of all the fuss didn't even seem to notice his guards or Prime's approach - he was curled up on the berth, hugging his knees to his chest and hiding his face. He was smaller than Bumblebee, but not quite as small as a human or a cassette, and while his armor was similar to that of his older self, it somehow looked softer, the edges more rounded and smooth. His arm cannon was gone, as was the gun barrel that had once jutted from his back. And he was filthy, still caked in mud and soot from the battlefield.

"He hasn't moved since Ratchet finished examining him," Mirage informed him. "Hasn't made a sound either. Rather refreshing to have a quiet prisoner for a change."

Prisoner... it seemed so wrong to call a sparkling a prisoner. He frowned behind his mask, forcing himself to remember that this was Megatron they were dealing with, not some war orphan. "Has he acted aggressively at all?"

"No, sir," Trailbreaker replied. "He doesn't even seem to know where he is. Hard to judge when he hasn't said a word, but he doesn't appear to recognize us as Autobots."

_So he has no memory of us, _Prime realized. _He's reverted to sparkling form in CPU as well as in body..._

Before he could continue down that line of thought, Megatron lifted his head, looking warily up at Prime. His optics looked too large for his face, as was typical for most sparklings, and the black markings on his brow were absent. Also gone were the ever-present scowl, the smirk of sinister triumph, that Prime was so used to seeing from his old foe - the expression on the sparkling's face was one of fear, almost of terror.

Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots, commander and warrior and statesman and everything else his title entailed, was not immune to the sight of a sparkling in distress. "It's all right," he found himself saying, voice as gentle and soothing as he could make it. "You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you."

Megatron just stared up at him, his expression caught somewhere between fear and fascination. Just as Trailbreaker had predicted, he gave no sign of recognizing Prime as his mortal enemy. That was a good sign as far as Prime was concerned.

"What are we going to do with you?" he asked, more to himself than to the sparkling.

"Don't we have a cell in the brig his size?" asked Mirage. "It was made for cassettes, but still, it shouldn't be too much of a squeeze..."

"Mirage, honestly!" Trailbreaker exclaimed. "He's a sparkling, not a crazed killer!"

"He's Megatron, for Cybertron's sake," Mirage retorted. "Why does everyone keep forgetting that..."

Any further argument between the spy and the weapons technician was cut off by a sudden, violent outburst of propelled air - what a human would have termed a sneeze. The two guards turned to stare at the sparkling, who was gazing back at them with a stunned expression that clearly said "Whoa, was that me?"

"Sounds like he has dirt in his systems," Ratchet noted as Megatron drew in another cycle of air and "sneezed" again.

"That answers my question, then," Prime decided, and he reached down and scooped the sparkling up in his arms. "The first thing we're going to do with him is give him a bath."

"You... are going to give Megatron... a bath," Mirage stated with a blank look, as if convinced that his commander had lost his senses.

Prime ignored him. "Ratchet, do you mind if I use your wash basin?"

"Go ahead," Ratchet replied, not looking up from his scans.

Megatron tensed up in Prime's grip, but he didn't struggle as Prime carried him over to the basin and set him inside. Turning on a stream of cleansing fluid, he found a clean cloth and set to work, scrubbing away the soot and dirt that crusted his chassis.

It had been many vorns since Prime had any contact with a sparkling, and he was surprised at how delicate Megatron felt as he bathed him. The alloy that made up his chassis was softer and more malleable than that of an adult mech, and he gentled his touch out of fear of damaging him by accident. He was also surprised at how smooth his armor felt, free of the many scratches and dents that a mech tended to collect over a lifetime. As the layer of grime came away he noted that his armor was brighter than he'd remembered, the red a bright crimson and the silver mirror-bright. And as he wiped the soot off his chest he saw the Decepticon symbol was absent... but then, sparklings almost never bore a faction symbol no matter what side their creators were on.

At first Megatron merely sat tensely as Prime cleaned him up, as if steeling himself for something painful. But Prime could feel him gradually relaxing under his hands, not protesting as the Autobot leader lifted his arms to scrub them off or carefully moved the finger joints to make sure no debris was caught in them. He didn't even try squirming away when Prime wiped the dirt from his face, only shuttered his optics tightly.

"There we go," he murmured at last, setting the now-grimy cloth aside. "All clean. Let's get you dried off..."

Then something happened that Prime could never have prepared himself for. The sparkling opened his optics and looked up at him with an expression of such complete and utter _trust _that it made Prime's spark lurch in response. He found himself unable to look away from those wide red optics, the gaze that not so long ago had held only hatred and rage.

Then Megatron gave a sigh - of relief? - and tucked his head against Prime's chest, nestling against him like an electro-kitten.

"Awwww... that's kinda adorable," said Wheeljack, headfins flickering pale blue in a smile.

"Be careful," Mirage urged. "He may look adorable, but he can still be deadly."

Prime raised a hesitant hand and laid it on the sparkling's back, feeling a sudden surge of protectiveness. He knew what they had to do with Megatron now... and he had a feeling his decision would not be a popular one. But the thought of dealing with this situation in any other way was unthinkable.

* * *

><p>Elita-1 frowned, as if unsure of what she had just heard. "Repeat that? The connection must be patchy."<p>

"I'm sure you heard me just fine, Elita," Prime replied, unable to keep the amusement from his voice. "I said 'we've just become parents.'"

The leader of the Autobot femme resistance raised an optic ridge. "This wouldn't have anything to do with the immobilizer accident, would it?"

Prime's optics flickered in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Ironhide is lousy at keeping secrets," Elita-1 replied with a slight smile. "And Chromia lets me know if she hears something important from him."

"Then you know about Megatron's... condition."

She nodded. "Let me guess - you're thinking about raising him as an Autobot."

"Not thinking about it," Prime replied. "I'm going to do it."

"Are you sure about this? Remember who we're talking about here..."

"Elita, I know this is Megatron we're talking about. But from everything we can see here, he has no memory of being the Decepticon leader, and no memory of the war. All he knows is that he's small and defenseless, surrounded by much bigger mechs who seem angry at him for what he sees as no reason. Who he was before the accident doesn't matter now - right now he's just an abandoned sparkling who needs a caretaker. And besides, this is the opportunity I'd hoped for - the chance to find a peaceful resolution to this war. It may not be the most orthodox means of ending the war, but we may never get another chance at this."

"If he takes to the life of an Autobot," Elita pointed out. "He could very well turn out the same as before despite our efforts."

"I know about the old 'programming vs. parenting' debate," he replied. "But I'd like to think that at least some of Megatron's problems are a result of his training and upbringing. And perhaps this is the chance to set things right."

Elita sighed. "I don't like this, and I can't really pretend that I do. But I know you have your spark set on this, so I won't dissuade you. I just want you to be careful." She cocked her head curiously. "Where is he now?"

Prime reached forward and adjusted a few controls on the communications console. He'd purposefully kept his end of the video connection zoomed in on his head and shoulders, but now he let the camera pull back to reveal Megatron in his lap, curled up and resting his head on Prime's chestplates as he dozed.

Despite her reservations, Elita smiled. "Oh my... he's adorable."

"We never thought we'd say that about Megatron, did we?" Prime asked with a chuckle.

Elita raised a hand, as if wanting to reach out and touch the sparkling even through the video feed. "If we're raising him as an Autobot... perhaps he needs a new name. Something that won't connect him to the Decepticons. If this is going to be a fresh start for him, he should start with a name that doesn't carry millennia worth of baggage with it."

"That's true," Prime agreed, looking down at the sleeping sparkling. He hadn't considered giving Megatron a new name, but Elita's suggestion had definite merit. Calling this child by his old name would only reinforce his status as an altered Megatron to everyone, and make it impossible for them to separate their hated foe from the sparking in their minds.

"How about... Metronix?" he asked, looking back up at the communications screen.

Elita pondered that a moment. "Metronix... I like it. It suits."

"Metronix," Prime repeated, resting a gentle hand on the sparkling's back. "Welcome aboard the Ark, Metronix. And to the beginning of a new life."


	3. Chapter 3

"Absolutely not!"

Red Alert glared at Optimus Prime from across the briefing room, arms folded across his chest, his jaw servos stubbornly set. His optics flashed with anger, as if daring Prime to press the issue further. Behind him, Prime could hear Jazz and Ratchet shifting a few steps back, and he had to suppress the urge to roll his optics. Red Alert wasn't easy to deal with on the best of days, but at the very least he could have used a little backup instead of the sudden cowards his special ops and medical officers had just become.

"Red Alert, I can promise you there's no danger," Prime countered, focusing on keeping his voice calm and even. "The chances of a sparkling being any danger to me are remote, and you know that."

"Remote?" Red Alert snapped. "A remote chance? You want Megatron to share quarters with you-"

"Metronix," Prime corrected.

"-and you say there's ONLY a chance that he'll be a danger?" the security officer went on, ignoring Prime. "Do you have a death wish? Have you fried your logic circuits?"

"Watch your vocalizer, Red!" Ratchet snapped back. "You're addressing your superior officer!"

"How can you worry about protocols when Prime's willingly putting his life in danger?" Prowl put in, stepping up to the Lamborghini's side. "I'm afraid I must side with Red Alert on this, Prime - allowing the sparkling to share your quarters is out of the question. The effects of Wheeljack's device could wear off at any time. And I hardly think Megatron would pass up an opportunity to dispatch you should he find you in recharge."

"Exactly!" Red Alert insisted, shooting Prowl a rare approving look. "At least someone here is talking sense."

"Wheeljack and I have gone over the scans so many times I can recite the readings in my defrag cycle," Ratchet said testily. "The likelihood of Mega... Metronix returning to his former self is incredibly slim, almost nonexistent. About the only way Megatron's coming back is if Wheeljack figures out how to put a reverse switch on that infernal contraption of his."

"That doesn't mean Megatron's programming doesn't lurk in that sparkling's CPU still," Red Alert retorted, his sensor horns beginning to flicker in agitation. "It could be suppressed but still there, a sleeper program that will activate as soon as he catches Prime in a vulnerable state..."

"Aw, c'mon Red," Jazz implored. "This is a kid we're talkin' 'bout! Not a sparkless killer! He's just a scared lil' guy, an' Prime just wants t' take care of 'im. An' what better way t' do that than makin' sure he stays close by?"

"It's ludicrous," Red Alert insisted. "It's completely ludicrous and I won't allow it! Call him Megatron or Metronix or Metropolis or whatever you want, it doesn't change the fact that you want the leader of the Decepticons, your sworn enemy, to share your quarters with you!"

Ratchet gave Prime a puzzled look and mouthed "Metropolis?" Prime waved the medic away, deciding an explanation could wait until later, and leveled a stern gaze upon his security officer.

"I have heard your concerns," he told the Lamborghini. "Yours as well." He nodded in Prowl's direction. "And I repeat, Metronix will be staying in my quarters for the time being."

Prowl blinked. "You can't honestly-"

"There's no way I'm going to allow-" began Red Alert, horns flashing again.

Prime raised his hands, cutting both officers off. "Under normal circumstances, Red Alert, your wishes on this matter would be the final word, as the security of this base is your responsibility. But I have the authority to override your orders, and I'm using that authority now. You will give Metronix the standard security scans that we would give any visiting sparkling, then log him into our databanks as a civilian resident of this base. And alter the room rosters to show that there will be two mechs residing in my quarters from now on."

Red Alert sputtered angrily, his horns flashing in agitation, then gave an inarticulate cry of frustration and stormed out of the briefing room.

"Well, that went well," Ratchet noted dryly.

"Red Alert raised valid concerns, Prime," said Prowl, his doorwings pinned back like the ears of a cat. "Despite all Ratchet and Wheeljack's findings, we still don't know what Metronix is capable of. We don't know that his current condition is permanent, or that his violent tendancies don't remain in his programming. Even if he never regains his memory, he could still retain his destructive nature."

"My decision is final, Prowl," Prime told the tactician. "If it upsets Red Alert, then so be it. But I'm confident he'll recover."

Prowl's doors twitched irritably. "Red Alert was not being difficult for the sake of causing trouble, Prime. He genuinely fears for your safety, and the safety of everyone aboard the Ark. Your blatant disregard for his concerns could compromise the safety of our forces, and perhaps even our entire goal of safeguarding this planet!" Though the volume of his voice remained constant, his tone grew angrier and more intense the more he talked, until he practically snarled out the last few words. It took a lot to work Prowl into a real rage, but it seemed the current situation was pushing his anger to the breaking point.

But if Prowl could be pushed too far, so could Prime. "I do not treat the safety of my troops lightly, Prowl," he stated coolly. "And I would never willingly put our operations here in jeopardy. If I felt Metronix was a threat to us, I would have taken your suggestion of confining him to the brig immediately. But unless and until he proves to be a danger, I will NOT treat him like a prisoner or a war criminal. I would suggest everyone else do the same."

Prowl's optics flared brighter for an instant, then he sucked in a deep cycle to calm himself down. "For your sake, and all our sakes, I hope you know what you're doing, Optimus." And with that, he strode out of the room.

"That went even better," Ratchet muttered sarcastically.

"Ah, Prowl don't stay mad long," Jazz assured the others. "He's got that whole Spock facade goin', but ya know underneath it all he's just a big kitten. Won't be long 'fore he warms up to th' kid." He chuckled softly. "Just be glad it was him an' not 'Hide."

"There's a reason Ironhide's off on patrol at the moment," Prime replied. One small blessing - as rocky as the meeting had gone, it would have been ten times worse had the old warrior been present. Ironhide made it no secret that he liked Metronix no better than he liked Megatron, and the van was stubborn enough that it would be a long while before he changed his mind.

"I don't see you pull rank on other officers often, Prime," Ratchet noted, walking alongside the Autobot leader as they left the briefing room. "You must be pretty attached to the little one already to do that."

Prime only hitched one shoulder up in a shrug in reply. He could have lied, he supposed, and said he only cared about raising Metronix as an Autobot to peacably rid themselves of an enemy, that attachment had nothing to do with it. But centuries of dealing with uncooperative patients had given Ratchet an uncanny ability to see through falsehoods, and he would have called Prime on that immediately. Still, Prime wasn't sure he wanted to admit that he cared for the little sparkling already... at least, not out loud. Not yet.

Hound waited outside the briefing room, holding Metronix in his arms. Metronix seemed fascinated by the bits of equipment set into the scout's chest, but the moment he caught sight of Optimus his optics lit up, and he squirmed to get free of Hound's grip, arms outstretched toward Prime.

"Okay, okay, little guy," Hound laughed, and handed the sparkling over. "I promise he was better behaved than this during the meeting, sir. Not a peep out of him."

"He is a quiet little one, especially considering how he was before," Prime agreed. "Though it may be that he's not ready to speak yet." That, he supposed, depended on just how far back he had regressed into sparkling-hood. Few sparklings started talking right away - they could make noises the moment they were activated, but true speech usually didn't start for a few weeks. Just how young was his new charge anyhow, he had to wonder.

"Anything else, sir?" Hound asked.

"Not at the moment," Prime told him, letting Metronix get settled in his arms. "Thank you for watching him. You're dismissed."

"Feel free to call if you ever need someone to keep an optic on him again," Hound volunteered, and with a quick salute he turned to go.

"Well, that's one more Autobot won over," Ratchet noted. "And just a couple dozen to go."

"Don't sound so optimistic," Prime teased. "They'll come around."

Ratchet arched an optic ridge. "I'm on your side in this, Prime, so don't take what I'm about to say wrong. But you've got to understand - your troops have fought against Megatron for ages, and in some cases for all their lives. They see him as the enemy, and for fragged good reason. And for the worst of the Decepticons to suddenly be in the base, and them expected to treat him like one of their own... they're not going to accept him so readily. Commander or not, you're going to be fighting an uphill battle here, and I'm really not so sure it's a battle we can win."

Prime looked down at the little mech in his arms, who was poking and tapping on the windows set into his chest. "I know, Ratchet," he said quietly. "I know how much damage Megatron has caused to our world and this one, and to countless others. And I'm not about to forget what he has done. But at the same time, can we truly hold this one accountable for those crimes, when he doesn't even remember what he did? He's only a sparkling, and I'm not going to punish a sparkling for an adult mech's crimes... and I'm not going to let Metronix suffer for the sins of his previous life."

Ratchet nodded slowly. "Just be careful, Prime, and for Primus' sake tread carefully. Sparkling or not, there's more mechs than Ironhide who'd gladly take a piece out of Metronix as payback for what Megatron did." His gaze moved to Metronix, and his expression softened slightly as he changed the subject. "I'll check our supply stores and see if we've got a spare berth his size. I doubt we have much in the way of sparkling-sized supplies, but a minibot berth should do until we can get something better."

"That will do nicely," Prime agreed. It felt good to know that he had Ratchet in his court in this matter - the medic's word carried quite a bit of clout among the Autobots. And at this point, he and Metronix could use every ally they could get.

* * *

><p>Metronix couldn't sleep.<p>

He knew he should be tired - it had been an exciting, terrifying, and altogether exhausting day, and his energy levels were rather low. But he couldn't seem to get comfortable, no matter which way he lay. And a nagging, nervous feeling ate at his spark, jolting him to full alertness every time he dozed off.

It wasn't the berth - it was a little big, but not big enough to make him feel tiny and lost in it. It was more the feeling of insecurity, like he wasn't entirely safe here. And after so much excitement today, the fire and all the yelling and poking and prodding by the adults, safety was something he desperately craved.

Finally he sat up and pulled his knees to his chest, hugging his legs as he looked around the room. Even with the lights dimmed, he could still make out the details - the cluttered desk in one corner piled high with untidy stacks of datapads and weapon parts, the heavy rifle hanging in a display rack on one wall, a few framed holostills that showed glittering cityscapes, and most importantly (in his CPU anyhow) the larger recharge berth on the side of the room opposite him. Lying in that larger berth was the mech he knew as his guardian, deeply offline, the soft cycle of his fans the only sound in the night.

Funny... Metronix felt that he already knew the big red mech - Prime, the others had called him. How he wasn't sure, though. The few times he had tried to remember all he could call up in his memory banks was a jumble of incoherent thoughs and feelings, a mishmash of unfamiliar faces and names that didn't seem important now. He got a vague feeling that something big had once happened to him, and that this red mech was important to him in some way, but beyond that there was nothing.

And yet the mech seemed to know him as well, as did the other adults in the base. He shivered a little in fear as he recalled the harsh bellowing of the older red mech, the cold stares of the winged white mech and the slender blue mech, the rough hands that had scooped him from the mud and bundled him unceremoniously into the medbay before dumping him on a table...

The white medic had been gentle, at least, and talked kindly to him. His helper, the masked mech with the funny blinking lights on his helm, had been much the same, and seemed to take a particular interest in him for some reason. And the green mech had been kind too, keeping him company while his protector had been busy and warding off other mechs who had paused to deliver a scathing remark or two. But he didn't feel the same sort of familiarity toward them. And while they were nice enough, he didn't feel the same sense of safeness that he felt when around Prime.

Metronix unfolded from his curled-up position and scrambled off the berth, trying to move quietly. Slowly, he crept to Prime's side, watching the larger mech recharge. He stared, fascinated, at his masked face, the optics dimmed and shuttered in sleep, the great body humming softly as his systems ran idle through the night. Occasionally a tremor would run through his frame as his body involuntarily reacted to whatever his CPU processed in his dreams, but otherwise he was still and quiet.

With a little grunt of exertion Metronix pulled himself up onto the larger berth. Moving carefully, not wanting to wake his guardian, he climbed up onto the huge torso, settling himself as if the red mech was merely his bed for the night. Finally, he rested his head on the broad chest.

There... that was better. A soft, contented sigh breathed from his vents. Prime's body gave off a comforting warmth, and the thrum of his systems and the pulse of his spark provided a soothing sort of lullaby that further calmed him. And there was something else... an energy, an aura that Prime radiated, one of strength and gentleness that made him feel safe and protected. Other mechs had been kind enough to him, but only around Prime did he truly feel secure.

The great body shifted slightly beneath him, and he tensed, ready to jump off if Prime fully awoke. But his guardian only found a more comfortable position and drifted off with a faint murmur. Metronix, too, wriggled to get comfortable again before curling up and shuttering his own optics, finally slipping into recharge himself.

* * *

><p>When Prime came online, his systems immediately clicked out of their resting state and into full alert. His sensors registered a strange weight on his chest and abdominal plates, one that most certainly hadn't been there the night before. Bracing himself for a possible struggle, he brought his optics online and raised his head enough to get a good look at himself.<p>

"What in the..." His body relaxed, but his CPU was still awhirl with confusion. He was sure he'd put Metronix to bed in his own berth last night. Yet here he was, nestled against Prime's chassis like an electro-cat cub against its mother, a peaceful expression on his faceplate as he slept.

Prime watched the sparkling for a few minutes, reluctant to disturb him. He had to bite back an amused chuckle at the sight. If Red Alert had been upset at the thought of Metronix sharing a room with the Autobot Commander, he would have positively freaked out at the news that they'd shared a berth, however accidentally.

Finally he decided he couldn't delay getting up and going about his day any longer, and he rested a hand on Metronix's back, shaking him lightly. "Up, little one."

Metronix raised his head to regard Prime, optics half-shuttered and dim. The sleepy expression on his faceplate cracked Prime's resolve, and he laughed softly.

"Hello, Metronix. Good morning."

Metronix stared blearily at him a moment, his CPU still in the process of waking up. Then, for the first time since yesterday's battle, he smiled, and he spoke the first words of his newfound sparkling-hood.

"Hi, Daddy."

Prime had heard Carly use the term "melting" before to describe a reaction to something unbearably cute, and he had personally found the usage of that word confusing. Now... there was just no other way to describe it. He melted, completely and thoroughly. It was as if his internals had become warm and liquid, cleansing away any lingering doubts he might have had about the sparkling. Not even Ironhide could have been in his position and not thawed instantly to the little one.

"Ready to get moving?" he asked.

Metronix raised a fist to rub at his optics. "Uh-huh."

Prime reached up to grab Metronix under the arms, and he lifted him from his chest so he could sit up without knocking him to the floor. So he was Daddy now, a title he never imagined he would hold. And he was going to have to find ways to juggle his new tasks as a father with his continuing duties as the Prime. But he was sure he would find a way.


	4. Chapter 4

The first challenge Prime faced as a new parent was a completely unexpected one... one that he found a novel solution to, much to the surprise and consternation of his officers.

"Daddy!"

Prime halted in his tracks and turned around. "Metronix?"

"Daddy, wait up!" Metronix waved frantically as he rushed to catch up, pumping his legs as fast as he could. "Don't leave me!"

"I'm not going to leave you behind," Prime assured him, crouching and holding his hands out for the sparkling. "Trust me."

Metronix grabbed onto his hands, holding them tightly and looking up into the Autobot commander's face. "Promise?"

Just as it had back in the medbay that first day, that expression of utter trust and confidence tugged at Prime's spark. "Promise, little one," he replied, a smile tugging at his lip plates behind the mask.

"Okay." Whether because he sensed Prime's smile or simply out of relief that his newfound father wasn't going to abandon him, Metronix smiled back. Then he dashed on ahead, giggling, and Prime had to jog to play catch-up with the little one.

Metronix's first day aboard the Ark had been going relatively smoothly thus far, but only because Prime had gone out of his way to minimize contact with other Autobots as he went about the morning's business. Metronix had made it abundantly clear that wherever Prime went, he went, no questions asked. That wasn't all bad - if Prime was able to keep a firsthand optic on the sparkling he could keep him out of mischief and ensure that he stayed safe. But it also meant that wherever Prime went, he and his tagalong attracted surprised and disdainful looks, even expressions and words of outright hostility directed at the sparkling. Prime had been forced to take Metronix and their morning energon back to his quarters so they could refuel in peace. And as he went about his rounds he took side corridors and lengthly detours, ensuring they would cross paths with as few mechs as possible.

_There's got to be a better way to handle this, _he thought as he continued down the corridor toward the conference room. The Autobots would have to get used to Metronix's presence sooner or later - like it or not, he was going to be a permanent addition to the base. But at the same time, he didn't want to subject Metronix to constant harassment either.

"Daddy, too fast! Wait up!"

Prime halted again, waiting for the sparkling to catch up. Perhaps he needed to deal with this problem first - the smaller but more immediate issue of not constantly outdistancing Metronix as they walked. The poor thing had to take three steps for every one of Prime's strides, and if he had to run everywhere to keep up with his adoptive father he would soon tire himself out. But Prime couldn't exactly carry him everywhere either - he needed his hands free. There had to be a solution...

Then the answer hit him, and he had to chuckle at the utter simplicity of it. Sure, it was a little strange, but it worked well enough for human parents from what he had seen. Why wouldn't it be fitting in this case?

Scooping Metronix up in his arms, he changed his course, setting off for the labs. He had a few minutes before the officer's meeting; perhaps that would be enough time for Perceptor or Wheeljack to rig up what he had in mind.

* * *

><p>When Optimus Prime finally entered the conference room, every optic and visor was on him... or rather, on the sparkling peeking over his shoulder, hanging from Prime's shoulders by a harness strapped to the Autobot leader's back.<p>

"Sorry I'm late," Prime told the gathered officers, taking his seat. "I had to make a detour." He hoped that if he didn't acknowledge their stares, they'd choose to drop the subject of his new passenger.

"What in blue blazes is that?" Red Alert demanded, mouth ajar in shock as he stared at Metronix. The sparkling ducked behind Prime's shoulder, trying to hide from the security officer's gaze.

"A variation on a human infant carrier, from the look of it," Ratchet replied calmly. "It's not uncommon for human parents to carry their young on their backs-"

"Not that!" Red Alert interrupted. "I'm talking about Megatron! What's he doing sitting in on an officer's meeting?"

No such luck, Prime supposed, and he gave a weary sigh before answering. "His name is Metronix, and he is under my care for the time being. I didn't feel comfortable leaving him by himself, and this seemed to be the best way for him to accompany me without slowing me down."

"Slaggin' Pit, Prime," Ironhide grumbled, giving the sparkling a caustic glower. "Yer takin' this WAY too far!"

"I won't have this!" Red Alert cut in. "No one aside from officers is allowed in here - and especially not Mega..." He caught himself at the last second. "Especially not Metronix. This is a dangerous security breach..."

"Everyone shut up already!" Ratchet shouted, drowning out Ironhide and Red Alert's protests. "Prime's word on this is the final one. If he says the sparkling stays, he stays. And I can't see how having a sparkling in attendance would be any harm." Red Alert opened his mouth to protest, but a glare from the medic shut him up in a hurry. "Now can we get back to business? We came here to discuss the Decepticons, not fight each other."

Ironhide looked as if he dearly wanted to say something else, but he only folded his arms and glowered at Prime, looking for all the world like a sulking child. Prime made a mental note to talk to Ironhide in private sometime today, then turned his attention to Prowl. The tactician didn't look much happier with Metronix's presence, but he at least elected not to comment on it.

"According to Elita-1 and Ultra Magnus' reports, word of Megatron's disappearance has reached the Decepticons on Cybertron," Prowl informed them, looking down at the datapad in his hands. "Thus far Shockwave has assumed command of the planet in his stead, with Razorclaw and his Predacons maintaining order for him. There has been no word regarding the state of the Decepticon forces on Earth, but it's safe to assume that either Starscream or Soundwave have taken command."

"An' with any luck one of 'em's taken the other out fightin' over the leadership," Jazz chuckled.

"Don't count on it," Prime told him. "Both of those mechs are tough, sly, and highly intelligent - I doubt a confrontation between them would end as simply as that."

"A mech can hope," Jazz replied. Then his wry grin softened into a genuine smile, and he waved at Metronix, who had regained enough courage to peek out from behind Prime's shoulder again. Metronix giggled and waved back.

"What's the reaction toward Megatron's disappearance?" Prime asked.

"From the Autobots?" Prowl replied. "Quite frankly, relief. The general concensus from them is that, though they know the war is far from over, it's still a huge step in the right direction. Having one of the most powerful and dangerous Decepticons out of the picture has heightened our troops' morale everywhere."

Prime wondered if Prowl was emphasizing the "powerful and dangerous" aspect on purpose, just to drive home to his commander how much of a bad idea he thought it was to keep Metronix around. That train of thought came to an abrupt halt when a tiny hand suddenly seized his helm antenna and yanked. He yelped in surprise as his head was pulled sideways, startled at the strength in the sparkling's grip.

"Metronix!" he scolded, reaching up to detach the little hand from his helm. "Metronix, don't do that. It hurts."

"What's it do?" Metronix asked, reluctant to let go of the antenna.

Jazz cracked up laughing at the sight, earning a disgusted look from Prowl. Ratchet, too, snickered a bit, though he made more of an effort to keep himself composed. Ironhide went tense, one hand raised as if to snatch Metronix away or go for a weapon, as if he were interpreting Metronix's move as an attack. Red Alert... his reaction was the most vocal.

"See?" he announced, shooting to his feet. "What did I tell you? His original programming's returning! He's trying to snap Prime's neck struts!"

"Aw, Red, he's just curious," Jazz argued, still chuckling. "Any sparklin' is gonna be grabby like that. He just wants t' know what this or that does or how well it's attached."

"We can't be sure if that's what's truly going through his CPU, can we?" Red Alert countered. "Oh, it looks cute now and we'll dismiss it as harmless, but before we know it he'll be going for his fuel lines next..."

"That'll be enough out of you, Red Alert," Prime ordered, finally prying Metronix's hand off his helm. "Everyone settle down and let Prowl finish his report. Ironhide, at ease. Metronix, we don't grab other mech's helmets without asking. Understand?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, tucking his head against Prime's shoulder.

That move melted away any lingering irritation Prime felt, and he gently patted his helm comfortingly before turning to face Prowl again. "Continue."

Prowl eyed Prime and Metronix a moment longer, as if making certain things were truly settled, then returned his gaze to the datapad. "There has been no further activity from Decepticon headquarters since yesterday's battle. This is unusual - we were anticipating a second attack once a new leader had been chosen. It's typical for a new Decepticon leader to launch an attack as soon as possible after taking command in order to solidify his position."

"Why do you think they've remained quiet?" asked Prime.

"No good reason, that's fer sure," Ironhide grumbled. "Maybe they're bidin' their time, hopin' t' catch us off our guard."

"Possible," Prowl replied. "Another possibility is that no leader has been chosen yet, or whoever has assumed command in Megatron's stead is having to fight to maintain his position. That would be the far more preferable scenario - having the Decepticons fighting amongst themselves means they're in no position to fight us."

"And in no position to keep us from retaking Cybertron," Ratchet realized, and a rare smile crossed his faceplate. "An end to the war is in sight at last."

"Don't count the war as won yet," Prime warned. "We have a long way to go before we're ready to return to Cybertron."

"Still, there's a light at the end of the tunnel," Jazz pointed out. "That's more'n we've had in vorns..."

If Jazz had anything else to say, Prime didn't catch it. Metronix had started squirming in his harness, and by now his movements had reached the point where Prime couldn't ignore them anymore. Muttering a quick "excuse me" to his officers, he turned to give Metronix a warning look. The sparkling only looked back with wide, innocent-looking optics.

"You need to hold still, Metronix," Prime told him.

"Bored," he insisted, pouting. "Want down." He waved insistently at the floor to emphasize his point.

Despite himself, Prime felt a smile tug at his lip plates. Metronix was finally coming out of his shell, and felt safe and secure enough to request things for himself. That could only be a good sign as far as he was concerned. Reaching back, he started to unbuckle one of the straps.

"What do you think you're doing?" Predictably, that was Red Alert, gawking at Prime as if he'd just pulled a laser cannon and aimed it at the gathered officers.

"I'm letting him down," Prime replied. "This way he'll be less of a distraction..."

"Won't letting him run free in the conference room be more of a distraction?" Prowl pointed out, arching an optic ridge.

"He'll be perfectly fine," Prime assured them, and he undid the harness and let Metronix slide down to the floor. The sparkling promptly scurried under the table, evidently finding something to amuse himself in his new hiding place.

"The question is will WE be perfectly fine?" Red Alert demanded, glaring at Prime. "You're letting our worst enemy run free in here, where he can overhear sensitive information or even try to kill us..."

"For the last time, Red Alert, he is NOT Megatron," Prime told the security officer, letting his frustration show through in every word. "He is a sparkling, and he's no more danger to us than any other sparkling. If he proves to be dangerous or any sort of security risk, I will remove him. Until then, I don't want to hear another word on the subject."

Red Alert had opened his mouth to protest, but jumped abruptly as Ratchet kicked him under the table. He not only remained quiet for the rest of the meeting, he glowered in Prime's direction the entire time. Great, two officers slagged off at him over the sparkling, and the day wasn't even half over yet.

"Is it permissable to continue, Prime?" Prowl asked in an exasperated tone.

"Go on, Prowl," Prime told him. Best to get this over with before he had every Autobot officer ticked off at him.

"The situation among the Decepticons isn't as unstable as we would like," Prowl went on. "But there is some amount of unrest, which we can use to our advantage. The question is, what do we do now? The most logical course of action would be to press our advantage and attack now, while the Decepticons are disorganized, but it's unclear whether that would be the wisest choice."

"At th' least, we could boot th' 'Cons off this planet," Jazz suggested. "They ain't th' most organized bunch, an' Megatron was th' only thing keepin' 'em together for th' most part. One good push an' we can send 'em back t' Cybertron with their tailfins smokin'."

Ratchet jumped in his seat at that moment. All optics turned to the medical officer, but he waved away their concerned looks and settled back in his seat, though not without a suspicious glance beneath the table.

"I would like more information before we proceed," Prime replied. "I want to know who, if anyone, is in charge now that Megatron's gone, and whether the Decepticons have accepted them as leader or not. And I want to know what this new leader has planned for the forseeable future. Whoever it is, it's safe to assume their fighting and leadership styles will be vastly different from Megatron's, and we have to be prepared for that-"

Ironhide swore loudly and jerked his feet up, glaring under the table. There was a scuffle as Metronix scooted away from the red warrior's feet as fast as he could, but a muffled giggle told the gathered officers that the sparkling wasn't the least bit sorry at having gotten a reaction out of him.

"Just ignore him," Prime told Ironhide. "If you don't react, he'll stop doing it."

"Yeah right," huffed Ironhide, but he lowered his feet anyhow.

"I doubt we'll get all the information you're wanting, Prime, but we will do what we can," said Prowl, electing to continue as if nothing had happened. "I'll have Blaster send his cassettes out to listen in wherever they can, and tell Mirage and Bumblebee to - ack!" He jerked back in his chair, optics suddenly bright with surprise. "Let go of my foot!"

"Primus fraggit, Prime, if ya don' keep that kid under control, I'll do something y'all'll regret!" Ironhide snapped.

"He's just a kid, 'Hide!" Jazz protested. "He ain't doin' no harm, he just wants t' play-" Whatever else he had to say cut off with a yip of surprise, but rather than scoot away from the table or glare under it, he just laughed. "Poked me in th' wheel wells. Tickles."

Red Alert opened his mouth as if to deliver his two credits' worth, but instead shrieked and shot to his feet as he, too, got grabbed under the table. "That's IT! I don't have to put up with this! I won't be disrespected by my fellow officers or humiliated by a sparkling!" And he stormed out of the room.

Prowl watched Red Alert go, then turned to the rest of the officers. "Meeting dismissed. Prime, stay behind. I want a word."

Prime sighed as the other officers filed out... then gave a start of his own as an inquisitive hand grabbed one of the tires on his right leg. His first instinct was to jerk his leg away, but he forced himself to hold still. He didn't want to spook Metronix, and to be honest, he didn't see any harm in his curiousity.

As soon as the others had left the room, Prowl addressed his commander, his voice stern. "Optimus, I know what you're trying to do, and while I don't agree with it, I am willing to let you attempt it so long as it doesn't have a detrimental effect on the Autobots. But there are limits to how far I'm willing to go, and today you've pushed them too far. This can't happen again."

Prime's first impulse was to argue with Prowl, but instead he offlined his optics and focused on taking a few deep intakes. It was tempting to pull rank again and simply tell his second-in-command that if he didn't like the situation, tough, he had to live with it. But a good commander listened to what his officers had to say, and he had to admit that Prowl did have a point. Caretaker or not, he still had a responsibility to the Autobots, and he had to find a way to balance his duties so that neither Metronix nor the Autobots suffered.

"My apologies, Prowl," Prime replied evenly, onlining his optics again. "This won't happen again. From now on, I'll find someone to watch over Metronix instead of bringing him to meetings." He felt Metronix grab onto his leg and latch on like a space barnacle, but he tried not to react. "In return, however, I would like you to try to reason with Red Alert. There has been no evidence to validate his concerns, and the more he insists Metronix is a danger, the more Autobots will take his side."

Prowl nodded. "Apology accepted, sir. That sounds like a fair compromise." He collected his datapads and rose to leave. "One other thing. If you're serious about raising him as an Autobot and being his caretaker, I suggest you see about getting him some toys. He may not be willfully destructive, but any bored sparkling is a potentially dangerous one." And with a hint of a smile he left the room.

Metronix's grip on his leg tightened. "Am I in trouble, Daddy?"

"No, little one." He reached down to pry Metronix off his leg. "You're not in trouble." He chuckled softly as he lifted him and held him in his arms. "I think Daddy's the one in trouble at the moment. But it's nothing bad."

That seemed to comfort Metronix, and he hugged Prime tightly around the neck. "Wanna ride on your back again!"

"All right, little one. Just hold still and let me get the harness on you."

As he finished buckling Metronix in and fastened him to his back again, he pondered on Prowl's suggestion. Just how was he going to get sparkling toys? Supply shipments from Cybertron were few and far between, and even if he made a request for some immediately, it could be months before they arrived at the Ark. He would have to improvise something and make use of his resources on Earth. Maybe Sparkplug could help - the human was a father, after all, and had experience with trying to keep a child entertained.

He left the conference room and headed for the repair bay, where Sparkplug was bound to be at this hour. He had a bit of free time before his next set of duties, and he might as well make good use of it.

* * *

><p>"So this is the cause of all the fuss," Sparkplug noted, leaving his workbench to approach Prime as he lowered Metronix to the floor. "Wow... who'd have thought the old Slagmaker would make such a cute kid?"<p>

"His name is Metronix," Prime told him. "And he'll be living with us from now on." He gently put a hand on the sparkling's back, trying to urge him toward Sparkplug. "Go on. He won't hurt you."

Metronix squeaked and squirmed away from his hand, ducking behind Prime's leg.

"Aw, he's shy," Sparkplug laughed. "Hey little guy... I'm not gonna hurt you." He held a hand out coaxingly. "I know, I look kind of funny to you, but I don't bite, I promise."

Metronix peeked out from behind Prime's leg, but he made no move to approach the human. Prime had to chuckle softly himself. Even as a sparkling Metronix stood quite a bit taller than Sparkplug, and yet he was more nervous around him than around mechs much bigger than him. Though even the Autobots had been a little nervous around humans the first time they'd met - they were so small and delicate in comparison, after all.

Sparkplug seemed to accept that Metronix wasn't going to come any closer, and he lowered his hand. "So how can I help you, Prime? Or is this just a chance to get acquainted with the little guy?"

"Both, actually," Prime replied. "I'll have to introduce him to Spike, Carly, and Chip at a later date. But I actually had a favor to ask of you."

"Shoot."

"I need... toys," he confessed, feeling a little silly as he spoke. "If Metronix is going to be with us for the long term, he's going to need something to occupy his time. It will be awhile before we can get proper sparkling toys from Cybertron, so I had hoped you might be able to help me see what's available here on Earth."

"Hmmm." Sparkplug cupped his chin in his hand as he thought. "Well, a lot of that depends on what he likes. I'd recommend getting several different types to start with, then once you find out what he prefers to play with, go from there. Whatever you get is going to have to be bigger than normal, of course." He pulled a grease-stained notebook out of his back pocket and began to take some notes. "They make balls and stuffed animals in large sizes, so that's a start. And those miniature go-cart type of cars could work as toys for him, too, though I'd pull out or modify the motors first."

"Perhaps a gaming system of some sort as well?" Prime suggested. "Our techs could adapt it to fit his hands. The motion-sensor one would probably be best."

"The Wii? Not a bad choice, that one seems to be the most kid-friendly... oh, hi." Sparkplug looked up from his notebook to find himself eye-to-optic with Metronix, who had emerged from behind Prime and approached him in the middle of the conversation.

"Be gentle with him, Metronix," Prime warned, keeping his voice calm and kindly. "Humans are fragile."

Metronix nodded but kept staring intently at Sparkplug. As the human watched warily, he reached out and nudged the hard hat off his head, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter. Then he patted the top of Sparkplug's head, as cautious as a human child touching a live animal for the first time.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Oh... that's hair, little guy," Sparkplug replied, unable to suppress an amused smile. "Or what's left of mine, anyhow."

"What's it for?"

"It... well, come to think of it, I'm not sure." He chuckled softly. "At least, I'm not sure what it's for on humans. Maybe to keep our heads warm."

"Oh." Metronix seemed to ponder that a moment. Then he reached up and tugged at his own helm.

"What are you doing?" Prime asked, bending down to pull his hands away from his helm. "Don't hurt yourself."

"Wanna see if I got hair," Metronix insisted, trying to squirm out of Prime's grip.

Sparkplug's chuckle became a full-blown laugh at that. "Oh dear... I forgot just how cute kids are. This little guy's gonna be good for the base, I think."

"I'm hoping so," Prime replied, scooping Metronix up in his arms. "I'm still hoping the others can accept him for who he is, and not for who he was."

Sparkplug nodded, a bit more serious now. "I'd give it some time. They're not going to forget overnight who he used to be. But they'll come around, I'm sure. Just a suggestion, but I'd keep the talk about his former name down while he's around. Because if he keeps hearing that name, sooner or later he's going to be asking questions, and he won't like the answer."

"Good point," Prime acknowledged. "Thank you, Sparkplug. You've been very helpful."

"Not a problem. And let me know before you go shopping. Maybe I can help you find what you're looking for."

"That would be most appreciated." He caught Metronix's hand as he was reaching for Prime's helm and gently pushed it down. "I'll talk to you this evening."

"Take care, Prime."

As the Autobot commander and human mechanic parted ways, neither of them thought to look up... but if they had, they would have caught slanted red optics glinting from the ventilation grate in the ceiling. And if they had paused to listen, they might have heard the soft pad of feet as Ravage slunk away, practically vibrating with urgency as he went to deliver the news to his master.


	5. Chapter 5

A silence so complete it was almost deafening fell over the conference room once Ravage's recording played out. The gathered Decepticons - Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave, the latter present via vidscreen - made no move to speak or even to move, each pondering what they had just heard. It was almost as if each was waiting for one of the others to break the silence and give them an opportunity to provide a rebuttal.

It had been three days since the last battle, and so far no one had sought to challenge Starscream's claim to leadership of the Decepticons... at least not openly. Not that others among the Decepticons didn't WANT to assert their claim, or at the very least push Starscream out of his current position. But most mechs assumed that since no one had actually seen Megatron go offline, it was only a matter of time before he escaped Autobot custody and returned to assume command, or before the Autobots contacted the Decepticons to negotiate a prisoner exchange. And no one wanted to be the mech caught usurping the throne when Megatron returned.

But Ravage's astonishing discovery changed things. Though whether for the better or for the worse, no one could say yet.

It was Starscream who finally broke the silence. A grin had formed on his faceplate as Ravage had made his report, a grin that only grew wider with each passing moment. Now his amusement finally burst free in the form of a wickedly delighted laugh that set the other two Decepticons to glaring at him.

"Oh, this is rich," Starscream chuckled. "Our glorious leader reduced to a mere sparkling. The troops back home will have a field day with this."

"On the contrary," Shockwave replied coldly, "the troops back home must not learn of this. Our forces are demoralized enough from the sudden shift in leadership. This news will only provoke further chaos."

"They'll get over it," Starscream replied sharply. "And once they've accepted that Megatron's not coming back, they'll accept me as their leader." He leaned back against the wall, a gloating smirk on his face. "I want an announcement made as soon as possible!"

"You're a fool, Starscream!" Shockwave protested. "Such an action is far more than irrational - it's insane!"

Starscream scowled. "That's LORD Starscream to you, Shockwave."

"Very well... LORD Starscream," Shockwave replied, his tone bitter. "But let me remind you that the situation on Cybertron is precarious at the moment. The Predacons are maintaining order, but barely. Already there have been two attempts by other generals to claim the throne. If you were to announce Megatron's... condition, it would cause mass panic, riots, and Primus knows what else. We are better off keeping this latest revelation hidden until a course of action has been decided upon."

Starscream glared, but with a snort he relented. "Fine. No announcement will be made yet. But in the meantime, keep informing the Decepticons that I am the leader, and I will not tolerate dissention or attempts upon my throne. Is that clear?"

Shockwave nodded reluctantly. "Order will be maintained, Lord Starscream."

"Situation: undesirable," Soundwave intoned, opening his chest to let Ravage climb out. "Rescue mission must be organized. Retrieve Megatron from Autobot custody."

Starscream burst out laughing again. "A rescue mission? For a mere sparkling? What a waste of resources."

"That 'mere sparkling' you speak of is Megatron," Shockwave informed him. "So long as Megatron is still functioning, all possible efforts must be made to return him to the Nemesis-"

"Megatron no longer exists," Starscream snapped. "You heard it straight from Ravage - he's a sparkling now, with no chance of returning him to normal. Slag, he doesn't even know his real name! So unless you want to spark a new revolution by putting a child in charge of our forces, I suggest both of you drop this 'rescue mission' nonsense. Besides, he's with soft-sparked Autobots now. It's not as if he's in danger among them."

It was hard to tell through Soundwave's mask and visor, but the other Decepticons present were sure the Communications Officer was giving Starscream a death glare. "Megatron would not approve."

"Megatron," Starscream replied smoothly, "will never find out. If I were you, Soundwave, I would be focusing more on gaining MY approval than on retaining the approval of a mech who wouldn't even recognize you if he saw you." And with that, Starscream turned and strode out of the room.

Soundwave waited for the Seeker to move out of audial-range before speaking again. "Megatron's immediate return: desired."

"So all this is the fault of a botched upgrade to the immobilizer," Shockwave mused, reaching up to tap the spot where a chin would have been on a normal mech. "Most intriguing. Wheeljack is more clever than I previously assumed. A fair bit mad as well, but clever."

Soundwave turned to address the vidscreen. "Probability of returning Megatron to normal: requested."

"I would need to examine him more closely in order to determine that," Shockwave replied. "Having the immobilizer in our possession would improve our chances of undoing its effects as well."

Soundwave nodded. "Objective: twofold. Retrieve Megatron and capture immobilizer. Cassettes will be deployed."

"Excellent." Shockwave's cyclopic face filled more of the vidscreen as he leaned in closer. "Utmost caution must be exercised, Soundwave. If Starscream discovers our intentions, he won't hesitate to brand us as traitors and have us punished accordingly." He seemed more amused by the irony than disturbed about the consequences, but Soundwave nodded acknowledgement anyhow.

Ravage cocked his head at his master and growled inquiringly.

"Return to Autobot base," Soundwave ordered the cat. "Operation: observation. Watch for opportunity to rescue Megatron."

Ravage stepped forward to rub up against the Communications Officer, giving a metallic purr before loping off.

"That will do for now," Shockwave said approvingly. "I will contact you again in two of Earth's days for a status report."

"Acceptable," Soundwave replied. "Soundwave out."

"Shockwave out." And the vidscreen went dark.

* * *

><p>The evening energon break rolled around all too soon, and Prime decided he couldn't delay it any longer. Like it or not, Metronix was going to have to refuel around the other Autobots sooner or later. And they needed to get used to his presence among them, whether they liked it or not. So rather than grab a couple of cubes and retreat to his quarters, Prime decided he would take Metronix directly into the Common Room, no matter how many other Autobots were present.<p>

As he walked into the room, the buzz of conversation ceased as suddenly as if someone had hit a mute button, and every optic and visor fixed on the Autobot commander and his accompanying charge. Metronix, sensing he was the center of attention, waved cheerfully from his perch on Prime's back. Prime paused, a knot of tension coiling in his internals as he waited for someone, anyone, to say or do something to break the silence. Having so many mechs staring at him like this made him feel as if they were tensing to pounce on him...

Sideswipe abruptly broke the tension. "D'awwww, ain't he cute!"

"You think THAT is cute?" demanded Cliffjumper. "Looks like the same ugly old Megatron to me."

"Watch your mouth, Cliff," Ratchet said testily. "It's Metronix now."

"Megatron, Metronix, what's the difference?" the minibot demanded, tossing back the rest of his cube. "Same mech no matter what label you give him."

"Cliffjumper," Prime warned, and even he was surprised when the word came out almost as a growl. "Enough."

Cliffjumper's optics widened, and he shrank down in his seat. "Just making a statement..."

"Well, _I _think he's cute," Sideswipe insisted, and he stood up and approached Prime, grinning like a sparkling himself. "Could I see him, Prime?"

"You don't need my permission," Prime replied, feeling the knot of tension ease slightly, and he unbuckled the harness and lowered Metronix to the floor. "Stay close, little one."

Metronix pressed against Prime's leg and peered up at Sideswipe, head cocked to one side. "Who's that?"

"Name's Sideswipe, little guy," Sideswipe replied, crouching to put himself on the sparkling's level. "And you see that ugly yellow guy over there? That's my brother Sunstreaker. But you can call him Sunny."

"Drop dead," Sunstreaker advised, glaring at the back of Sideswipe's head. "And don't start corrupting the kid already."

"But what's the fun in NOT corrupting him?" asked Sideswipe. "Isn't that our job, to spoil him while Prime's not looking?"

"It doesn't work when you talk about it in front of the freaking Prime," Sunstreaker retorted, pushing his chair back and rising from his seat to join his twin. "Huh... quiet little guy. Thought he'd be a little more rambunctious, given what his older self was like."

"He's still getting used to being around us," Prime explained, reaching down to pat Metronix's helm. "Give him time to get accustomed to you. And please keep talk of his former self to a minimum. I'd rather he not learn some things yet."

"Oh... right." Sideswipe nodded. "That could get ugly."

If Metronix realized Prime and Sideswipe were talking about him, he gave no indication of it. He stared up at Sunstreaker, optics wide, then made an observation of his own. "Pretty!"

Sideswipe burst out laughing, and even Prime had to smile. Sunstreaker, for his part, just folded his arms and regarded the sparkling, his expression shifting from annoyed to satisfied.

"At least someone here appreciates the hard work I put into looking good," he noted. "Unlike some mechs I could mention."

"Shiny!" Metronix went on, and he reached forward to latch onto Sunstreaker's leg.

"Oy!" Sunstreaker yelped, leaping backward. "Watch the finish! Don't touch!"

Metronix stumbled back a few steps as well in response to Sunstreaker's shout, and he looked up at the yellow warrior with a sparkbroken expression, keening softly.

"Aww, Sunny, you're making him cry!" Sideswipe whined.

"I just didn't want him scratching my finish," Sunstreaker grumbled. "It's not like I spanked him or anything."

"He didn't know any better," Prime replied, and he bent down to pick Metronix back up. "He's still learning what's appropriate and what's not. Please cut him a little slack."

The sparkling immediately tucked his head against the Autobot commander's chest and gazed up at him with the sort of utterly miserable and spark-tugging look that only a child could achieve. Then he looked back over at Sunstreaker, and he gave another sad keen.

"Oh Primus, don't cry, kid," Sunstreaker huffed. "For the love of... here." He extended an arm toward Metronix. "If it'll make you happy, you can touch. Just be careful." And he looked away, shuttering his optics as if steeling himself for something incredibly painful.

"Your sacrifice honors us all, Sunflower," Sideswipe teased.

"Can it, Sides."

Metronix's expression brightened, and he grabbed Sunstreaker's arm and pulled it close to study it. "Sparkly!"

"That's metal-flake paint, kid," Sunstreaker replied, keeping his optic shutters tightly closed. "Scratch it and... um..." He searched his CPU for a threat but couldn't seem to come up with one. "Just don't scratch it."

"'Kay." He poked a little at the armor covering the back of his wrist, then let his arm go. Sunstreaker opened his optics and examined the limb carefully, checking for scuffs or scratches, then lowered his arm with a sigh when he found none.

"I guess he's not that bad," he conceded. "For a kid."

Prime's smile widened behind his mask. For Sunstreaker, that was high praise.

"Hey Prime, you ever need a sitter or anything, we'd be happy to help," Sideswipe volunteered. "Give you a break from playing parent..."

"What's this 'we' stuff, Sides?" Sunstreaker demanded. "Got a retrorat in your subspace pocket?"

"Oh shut up, you know you like him," Sideswipe laughed, giving his brother a playful swat on the shoulder. The two walked off, bickering between themselves.

Metronix giggled, wriggling against Prime. "Silly."

"Very silly," Prime agreed, patting his back as he carried him toward the energon dispensers. It seemed at least two more Autobots were warming to the sparkling in their midst. And seeing as neither Lamborghini had any love for Megatron, it was a relief to know that neither held any animosity toward Metronix. Sideswipe seemed to adore him, even, while Sunstreaker, if he didn't exactly warm up to him right away, at least had bent his pride enough to tolerate him. At the moment, he wouldn't ask for more from the yellow warrior.

Filling two cubes and balancing them in the crook of his free arm, he turned to find a table... and caught a set of optics glaring at him and his charge from a far table. Ironhide had broken off his discussion with Ratchet and Inferno to give Prime a look of disbelief, as if to ask from across the room "Really, seriously?" Ratchet, noticing the red van had gone quiet, followed his gaze, noted what he was looking at, and returned to the discussion with an obvious optic-roll, while Inferno elected to just keep talking as if he hadn't lost Ironhide's attention.

Prime simply returned Ironhide's glare with a calm look, then moved to join Hound and Trailbreaker at their table. At least they seemed welcoming of the sparkling. He was going to have to take Ironhide to task sooner or later, though - the old warrior seemed bound and determined to not give Metronix any sort of chance. And as respected as he was among the troops, the longer he held out, the more Autobots would side with him. Surely there had to be some way to change the stubborn Nissan's mind.

* * *

><p><em>No sign of violence so far, <em>Red Alert noted, peering closer at the screen. _But it's only been two days... he's bound to snap sooner or later. I just hope Prime's awake and alert when it happens, and can do what needs to be done._

If Optimus Prime ever found out that Red Alert had installed a camera in his quarters, he would probably quite literally blow a gasket. But as far as the security officer was concerned, such a risk was worth ensuring the Prime's safety. Better he suffer punishment than a Decepticon assassin slip into their leader's quarters undetected and slit his fuel lines in his recharge cycle. The others could scoff all they wanted, but such things had happened in the past, and he'd be slagged if he was going to let that happen on his watch.

The monitor he was studying at the moment showed Prime's private quarters, and even as he watched the door slid open to admit Prime, still carrying the sparkling on his back. Red Alert suppressed an anxious keen at the sight. In that position Metronix was so close to Prime, in a perfect position to yank out a vital fuel line or plant a sharp object through a gap in his armor. Every line of his programming screamed at him to rush to Prime's room and yank Metronix off his back, but he forced himself to remain sitting.

_I don't care if Prime thinks I'm just being paranoid, _he thought, venting a frustrated sigh. _I don't care if everyone else is buying this Metronix nonsense. He's still Megatron, and if no one else can see it, then it's up to me to make sure he doesn't damage our cause or injure our commander. _

On the screen, Prime unbuckled the sparkling from his back and set him on the floor, and Metronix promptly darted for a corner. Red Alert noted the box sitting in that corner with surprise - it hadn't been there this morning, so Prime must have just placed it this afternoon. He didn't have to wonder long about its contents, though, for Metronix promptly pulled out a ball and tossed it at Prime with a broad smile on his face.

Prime caught the ball and lobbed it gently back, and Metronix made a game effort to catch it, but it bounced off his hands and rolled across the room. That didn't seem to upset the sparkling, though, and he simply giggled and chased it across the room. Prime chuckled softly and held his hands out, prompting Metronix to throw it again. He obliged, flinging the ball so it bounced off Prime's chest and careened wildly across the room, eliciting more laughter from both mechs.

As much as Red Alert didn't want to acknowledge it, he had to admit as he watched them play that he hadn't seen Optimus this relaxed in ages. As the war had dragged on he and the other officers had watched their commander grow colder, more jaded and distant, as if the very warmth was being drained from his spark. Jazz had remarked on occasion that they rarely heard Prime laugh anymore, when once he had been known as one of the more easygoing and friendly commanders among the Autobots. To hear Prime laughing again, and to see him lower his stern demeanor to engage in play with a child, was a gratifying sight, even if the child in question was Metronix.

Still, he wasn't about to let his guard down. For all he knew, this could be part of the ruse to get Optimus to lower his guard.

After awhile Metronix seemed to tire of the game, and he yawned hugely, pulling air through his vents to cool his weary systems. Prime, seeing his charge was ready for recharge, picked him up and held him to his shoulder for a few minutes, rubbing his back and waiting for him to drop offline. Metronix shifted a little, tucking his face into the crook of Prime's neck, and gradually went still, his scarlet optics slowly shuttering.

Only when he seemed sure that Metronix was asleep did Prime lower him to the smaller berth, carefully arranging him in a comfortable-looking position. Then he turned to his own berth and settled in, pulling out a datapad to look over before recharging.

Any other mech would have stopped watching at this point, confident that nothing would happen while both mechs were asleep. But Red Alert continued to watch, long after Prime's optics had gone dim with exhaustion and he'd dropped offline himself. Taking an energon cube from the nearby console, he downed half of it and returned his attention to the screen. He had to keep himself energized - if he dropped offline for even a moment and missed something dangerous, he would never forgive himself.

Not even an hour had passed before movement on the screen caught Red Alert's attention. Metronix was shifting, squirming in his berth... then his optics came online, two ruby lights in the darkness of Prime's room. Red Alert felt his circuits crawl as the sparkling slithered out of bed, making for Prime's berth, moving with exaggerated care so as not to make any noise.

_This is it, _he thought with rising panic, one hand instinctively moving to hit the alarm. _This is what we've been afraid of... his programming's kicking back in, and he's going to deactivate Prime in his sleep... I warned him of this..._

Metronix climbed up onto Prime's berth, and Red Alert nearly screeched aloud as he pulled himself onto the Autobot leader's chassis. The security officer rested his hand on the button, ready to press it, to summon guards to subdue the sparkling before he could do any harm...

...then paused, staring, as Metronix curled up on Prime's chest and promptly fell asleep again.

Hesitantly, Red Alert pulled his hand back from the alarm button, though he didn't relax a servo. This wasn't what he had expected. Megatron would have taken full advantage of Prime's vulnerable state, would have cut his fuel lines and left him to bleed out, would have opened his chest and crushed his spark... any number of things. Not settle in like a cat and recharge practically in Prime's arms.

Perhaps, despite all his fears, Prime was right. Perhaps the beast within Megatron had been tamed after all, his vicious tendencies eliminated with his regression to sparkling-hood. And yet... he couldn't be sure.

Hours dragged by as Red Alert watched the screen, never looking away even when he downed another quaff of energy to keep his systems online. He tensed every time Prime or Metronix shifted, only relaxing slightly when they stilled again and returned to slumber. He had to be ready... had to catch Metronix should he make a move against their leader...

"Red?"

Red Alert shrieked and whirled, his gun out of subspace before he recognized the owner of that voice. "Don't come up behind me like that!"

Cosmos stared at the security officer, optics rebooting in surprise. "Have you been up all night?"

"Never mind that, what are you doing here?"

"Taking my shift," he replied, giving Red Alert a look of confusion that was evident even through his mask. "Bumblebee and I alternate morning shifts, remember?"

Red Alert stared at Cosmos blankly. "It's morning already?"

Cosmos nodded. "Are you okay, Red? You look a little frazzled."

"I'm fine," he insisted. "I'm fine... I'll be back, there's something I need to do." And he strode out, leaving Cosmos to stare after him and wonder what had just happened.

* * *

><p>"You know, Metronix," Prime murmured softly, raising his head slightly to gaze at the sleeping sparkling on his chest, "one of these days you should start sleeping in your own berth through the night."<p>

Metronix sighed softly and nestled closer before drifting off again.

Prime didn't have the spark to awaken the sparkling, so he simply cradled him in his arms as he sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the berth. He had an idea as to why Metronix liked to recharge on his chest every night, and to be honest, he didn't exactly disapprove of it. It was strangely comforting to have him close, to wake up in the morning to his familiar weight and warmth on his chassis. Perhaps later he'd try to train him to recharge in his own bed, but for now he wouldn't press the issue.

A knock on the door made Metronix stir and whine a bit, onlining his optics and looking up sleepily.

"Come in," Prime called out, patting Metronix's back soothingly.

The door opened, and Red Alert stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping Prime's quarters and a stern set to his mouthplates. Prime had just opened his mouth to ask what the white Lamborghini wanted when Red Alert spoke up.

"The gun rack has got to go," he said firmly. "From now on all weapons need to be kept locked up - preferably in the armory, but a gun safe will do if you must have them close by. Pictures will need to be bolted to the walls so they don't fall in an earthquake or explosion..."

"What are you talking about, Red Alert?" Prime inquired, frowning in confusion.

"And the berth isn't sparkling-safe," Red Alert went on, ignoring Prime. "We'll need a proper sparkling berth as soon as possible. And you'll need a desk with rounded edges, though I suppose we can just cap the corners on this one..."

"Red Alert," Prime interrupted, a warning tone to his voice. "What are you talking about?"

Red Alert gazed at Prime, then gave the sparkling in his arms a long look. "If he's going to be staying in your quarters," he replied, "the least we can do is make sure your room is safe for him."

Prime's optics rebooted in surprise. He wasn't going to complain about this change of mind on the security officer's part, but it was still such a turnaround from his previous attitude that it baffled him for a moment. Nor was he going to ask what had prompted the change. Best not to give him cause to reconsider his decision.

"If you would make a complete report of what needs to be done in here and leave it on my desk, I would appreciate it," he told Red Alert. "And thank you."

Red Alert nodded. "Simply doing my duty, Prime."

"You do it well, Red Alert. Keep up the good work." And he left him to his inspection, carrying the still-sleepy Metronix to the break room and his morning energy.


	6. Chapter 6

"If the two of you don't turn off that contraption in thirty seconds, I'll turn it off for you."

If either of the twins heard Prowl's threat, they didn't even twitch in response. Their optics remained glued to the vidscreen, their attention focused solely on the video game they were playing. Between them, Metronix was equally fascinated by the game, and was so engrossed in it that he leaned from side to side and even jumped in place as he mimicked his character's moves on the screen. The sight of the tiny mech so enthralled by the game had drawn curious stares and even laughter... and at the moment, Prowl's ire.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, your commanding officer just gave you a direct order," Prowl snapped.

"We're kinda busy at the moment," Sideswipe replied, not taking his optics off the screen.

"Do the two of you think I'm joking?" Prowl demanded.

"Aw, c'mon, Prowl," Jazz chuckled. "It's just a game. Ain't doin' th' little one no harm."

"I thought the purpose of keeping Metronix in the base was to rehabilitate him and educate him in the Autobot ways," Prowl retorted. "This game not only interferes with that rehabilitation, it could engrain dangerous behaviors into him."

"Dangerous?" Jazz guffawed. "It's a game! Not even one of th' bloody ones!"

"Looks can be deceiving, Jazz," Prowl countered. "It looks harmless enough, but it's been known to bring out aggressive and over-competitive tendencies in even our most laid-back troops. Do you know how many fights we've had to break up due to this game alone? It's a wonder we haven't banned it entirely by now."

"Aw Prowl, just 'cause a few mechs get worked up while playin' it don't mean-"

Sunstreaker's angry exclamation overrode the rest of Jazz's sentence. "GRRAAHH! Fraggin' blue shells!"

Sideswipe cracked up laughing. "Way to go, Metro!" He reached over to high-five the sparkling, who giggled and returned the gesture.

"Oh, you wouldn't think it was so funny if it was YOU!" Sunstreaker snarled. "Who was the one whining when they got knocked over the waterfall on Koopa Cape on the last lap?"

"And you were laughing about that," Sideswipe pointed out. "Don't dish it if you can't take it."

Prime, sitting back and watching the game session, simply chuckled in amusement. "There are far worse games he could be playing than Mario Kart, Prowl. And if he's happy with it and having fun, what's the harm in it?"

Prowl sighed. "It seems I'm outvoted in this... but don't say I didn't warn anyone." He touched two fingers to his temple as he received a radio call. "Hound's just come back from scouting the battle site. I'd better go take his report."

"Battle site?" Prime repeated. The battle had been over a week ago - why would Prowl want scouts sent so long after the conflict?

"Perceptor has requested we obtain energy readings from the area where..." He searched for a way to word his explanation. "Where Metronix came to be. It may offer some clues as to what went wrong."

Jazz laughed. "If this is th' immobilizer goin' wrong, I don't want it to go right."

Prime nodded, accepting that explanation. "Then I'd better go with you," he replied, standing. If this concerned Metronix, he needed to hear it. Anything that affected the sparkling's well-being and safety was his priority. And if any of the data Hound had collected hinted at Metronix's condition reversing at any time... no, he didn't want to think about that right now.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, watch Metronix while I'm gone," he ordered.

"Can do, sir," Sideswipe replied, saluting. "Hey Metro, want another race?"

"Yeah!" he shouted, wriggling excitedly. "Special Cup!"

"Of course you have to pick the hardest one," grumped Sunstreaker.

"It's fun!" Metronix insisted, glaring up at Sunstreaker. "An' I like Rainbow Road!"

"Trust a kid to like anything bright and shiny," Sunstreaker muttered.

"Can it, Sunspot," Sideswipe advised.

"Children, behave," Prime chided. He reached down and patted Metronix's helm. "Be good for Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, Metronix."

"'kay," he replied, not looking away from the screen. "Bye, Daddy."

Despite himself, he felt warmth flood his spark at being called that. "I'll be back in a little while, Metronix."

Prowl gave Prime a sidelong glance as the Autobot leader followed him out of the room. "Are you sure about leaving him with those two? They're not exactly ideal role models."

"They mean well," Prime replied. "And they like Metronix. I'd rather he were in their hands than in the hands of a mech who still saw him as Megatron."

Prowl frowned, but he didn't argue. "How is he adapting to life among the Autobots?"

"Quite well," Prime replied. "He's rather energetic, but that's to be expected. I just hope we can channel that energy to a good purpose rather than a destructive one."

Prowl nodded. "How long before we can begin a proper training regimen for him? The sooner we can introduce him to the Autobot way of things, the better."

"He's a sparkling, Prowl, not a soldier. For now his 'training regimen' will be learning by example. We can worry about his so-called 'training' when he's a little older... but for now, let him enjoy being a sparkling."

Prowl gave Prime an odd look, but whatever he was thinking, he didn't voice it aloud.

Hound was waiting in the briefing room when Prime and Prowl arrived. The scout looked rather muddy and dinged-up, but he tended to come back that way anytime he went outside - unlike most mechs, he had no qualms about getting a little dirty to get his job done. He carried something in his hands that was equally filthy and battered, but it only took Prime a moment to recognize it... and it caused a jolt in his systems.

"You found that at the battle site?" Prowl asked.

"Yessir," Hound replied, setting the fusion cannon down on the table. "It must have snapped off just as he got hit, seeing as it's still full-size."

Prime reached out and pulled the weapon closer, unable to suppress a slight chill at the touch of the smooth black metal. Megatron's fusion cannon wasn't simply another weapon discarded on the battlefield - this was a thing of terrible legend among the Autobot troops. It had slain millions, and rumor had it that it was this very weapon that had cut down Zeta Prime at the beginning of the war. The sight of it was almost as iconic as the Decepticon sigil itself, a deadly symbol of the warlord who had terrorized Cybertron and hundreds of other worlds for millennia. Prime himself was not immune to the terror it could invoke, for he'd had that weapon pointed at him too many times to count.

And yet... for all the horror this cannon and its wielder had inflicted, it brought back other memories for Prime as well - of finding Metronix shaking and terrified amid the burned trees, of ruby optics looking up at him with utmost trust, of a small warm form curled up against his chassis. His CPU kept trying to push those memories aside, calling up images of the silver tyrant who had caused such pain and destruction, who had conquered their homeworld and would have sucked Earth dry for his own whims, but his spark refused to let go of the more recent memories of Metronix.

He pushed the cannon back at Hound. "Take it to the armory and lock it up. We'll decide what to do with it later."

"Yes, sir," Hound replied, lifting the weapon in his arms. "Hoof! This thing's heavy... how'd he even manage to lift his arm with it on?"

Once Hound had left the room, Prowl spoke up again. "We should melt that thing down as soon as possible. Having it around is dangerous."

Prime shook his head. "We'll ship it to one of the Moonbases. The Autobot Council will want proof that Megatron has been dispatched."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "But he's not dead."

Prime regarded Prowl coolly. "The Megatron we know and fear is dead. Metronix may have been Megatron in the past, but not anymore. I would rather the Autobots as a whole saw him as a new mech entirely, rather than a transformed Megatron."

"So you propose lying to the Council to cover up Metronix's identity," Prowl stated, frowning.

"I propose telling them a portion of the truth," Prime replied. "That Megatron is gone. If they choose to interpret that as news of Megatron's death, then so be it."

"Prime, we can't lie to the Council," Prowl countered. "They HAVE to know who and what Metronix really is. If they find out you hid that news from them, it will only compound the problem. And should Metronix show any signs of turning back into Megatron..."

"That won't happen."

"We don't know that." Prowl didn't raise his voice, but his doorwings hitched up at a tense angle. "We're in completely uncharted territory in regards to Metronix. We don't know if this condition is permanent, or if his memory won't return at some point, or if he won't grow up violent and aggressive despite all our efforts. And we have to prepare the Autobots - ALL the Autobots - for any possibility."

Prime clenched his fists, trying to clamp down his angry retort before it could emerge. His first instinct was to defend the sparkling and argue with the tactician, but with great effort he held his vocalizer.

"I know you care about the sparkling, sir," Prowl went on in a softer tone. "Everyone sees it - one would have to be blind and sensor-less to miss it. And believe it or not, I don't see that as a weakness - your compassion for all life has been one of your greatest strengths. But I fear it also blinds you to the possible dangers Metronix poses. Someone has to remind you of the risks, and if it has to be me... then so be it."

Prime sighed heavily. As much as he hated to admit it, Prowl did have a point - Metronix had already secured a place in Prime's spark, and he didn't want to even consider the possibility that he could become Megatron again. He needed Prowl to be the devil's advocate, as it were, and remind him to be careful. That didn't mean he had to like it, of course.

"We'll decide what to do about the cannon later," Prowl said finally. "Just promise me that when the time comes, you'll be honest with the Autobot Council. Even if it means possible action against Metronix."

Before Prime could reply, his radio pinged. Which was probably a blessing, as he had just been about to say that he couldn't make such a promise.

_Prime speaking, _he responded.

The response he got was the nightmare of every parent, foster or otherwise. _Um, Prime? Sir? This is Sideswipe and... I think we lost Metronix._

* * *

><p>It wasn't as if Metronix had gotten himself lost on purpose. The base was so big and full of hallways, some part of the original Ark ship and others carved out of the solid rock of the volcano, and even the Autobots who had spent years here got themselves turned around on occasion. And Metronix had only been in a few of these hallways, and rarely without his father's company, so he was even more unfamiliar with the layout of the base than the average mech. He'd only intended to take a short walk, not wander the halls for what felt like hours.<p>

Still, Metronix wasn't scared, not yet. He was utterly confident that either Daddy or one of the twins would find him soon. Until then, it couldn't hurt to explore a little, could it?

The trouble had started not even a minute after Daddy had left the room. Sideswipe had declared himself bored with the game, and wondered aloud what they could do now. Before Metronix could come up with any ideas, the red mech had gotten a sneaky, mischievous look on his face.

"Dare I ask what you're concocting in that pile of melted silicone you call a CPU?" Sunstreaker had asked.

"Just thinking we could use the kid's help with something," Sideswipe had replied. "Just a quick little errand, anyone could do it. And I'm sure he'd LOVE to feel like he's helping here."

That idea had appealed to Metronix - he knew Daddy was an important mech here, even if the exact details of why he was so important went over his head. He wanted to be helpful, even in a small way. "Yeah! Wanna help!"

"Excellent!" Sideswipe had replied, and he had pulled something from subspace and placed it in Metronix's hands. "See this? Ratchet needs this, and he needs it soon. All you have to do is take it to the medbay and give it to him."

Sunstreaker had snorted in amusement. "Sides, you're evil. Roping the kid into this?"

"It's perfectly safe," Sideswipe had replied. "Trust me, he'll be just fine."

Metronix had no idea what Sideswipe had just handed him. It had looked almost like a length of rope, except colored a funny greenish-gray and with a strange texture that somehow felt bumpy and smooth at the same time. And it had moved in his hands, squirming and wrapping around one wrist even as he had watched.

"What's this?" he had asked.

"Just something for Ratchet," Sideswipe had replied. "Careful, don't squish it. Do you know where the medbay is from here, kid?"

"Nuh-uh."

"Well, it's not hard to find. Just go down the hall, turn right at the first hallway, and it's on your left, okay? Right, then left. Really easy. Then come back when you're done, okay?"

"Okay!" he'd replied eagerly. "Right then left?"

"Exactly. See you in a few minutes."

"If this ends badly, I deny all responsibility," Sunstreaker had muttered as Metronix left the room, repeating "right then left" to himself over and over as he headed down the hall, eyes fixed on the weird thing Sideswipe had given him. It wouldn't seem to hold still, and he had sworn it had turned one end and stared at him at one point.

Ratchet had been busy working on a datapad when Metronix entered the medbay, and he hadn't even glanced up when the sparkling had gone to stand by his side.

"Ratchet?"

"Oh, hi Metronix," Ratchet had replied, optics still fixed on the datapad. "Give me a moment, okay?"

"Got something 'portant to give you."

Ratchet hadn't turned to look, but had just held his hand out. "Little messenger boy now, are you? I'll take it."

"'Kay." And he had unwound the "rope" from around his wrist and dropped it into Ratchet's outstretched hand.

Whatever had happened between him handing over Sideswipe's "gift" and his panicked flight down the corridor two seconds later was something of a blur. He had no idea why Ratchet had suddenly begun screaming and flailing, or what "Fraggin' sonofaglitch SNAKE!" was supposed to mean, but he didn't want to stick around and find out.

Now that he'd put a respectable distance between himself and the angry white mech, though, he realized he didn't recognize his surroundings. He kept walking, though, not too worried yet. Surely sooner or later he'd run into an adult and they'd help him find his way back, right?

The hallway split into a T-shaped intersection just ahead, and he looked down each corridor, wondering where to go. The one on the right was more brightly lit, but he heard voices and sounds coming from the one on the left. After a moment's thought, he turned left. Whoever was down there could help him get back to Daddy, he figured.

The hallway terminated in a set of wide, reinforced doors. He stared in awe for a moment, wondering what they were for. The top of the doorway came higher than Daddy's head! Whoever used these doors was probably HUGE! And the voices and noises were coming from behind them!

He didn't even think to be scared - curiosity took precedence in his CPU. He had to stand on the very tips of his feet to reach the door controls, but with some effort and stretching he finally managed to open the doors, and after a quick peek inside he hurried in...

...and ran smack into a leg the size of a tree trunk, sending him sprawling on his backside. He opened his mouth to start crying, saw just who he'd collided with, and just stared, any fussing he had been about to indulge in forgotten entirely.

The owner of said leg turned to stare down at him, a puzzled expression on his long, toothy face. He was massive, taller even than Daddy, with a broadly built gold-and-silver body and powerful clawed legs. His arms were tiny in comparison to his lower limbs but still bore wicked hooked claws, and a thick tail swung behind him as he turned around to better regard the little intruder to his domain. His optics narrowed as he leaned in close, and Metronix could smell smoke and ozone as the giant blasted hot air out of his vents at him.

"You Grimlock go quiet all of a sudden!" someone boomed behind the giant mech. "What going on?"

"Us Dinobots got intruder," the creature grunted, reaching down with a delicate-looking forearm to poke at Metronix. "Little shrimp thing..."

Metronix finally found his voice, and he uttered only one word - "Cool!"

Grimlock raised his head slightly, optics flashing in surprise... but a little pleasure as well. "Huh! Him sparkling think me Grimlock cool! Him have good taste!" He cocked his head to one side. "What you sparkling doing all the way here? Me Grimlock thought you supposed to be with him Prime."

Metronix ignored the question, and raised his arms toward the Dinobot. "Wanna ride! On your back!"

Grimlock snorted. "Me Grimlock leader of Dinobots. Me Grimlock king! Not give pony rides for sparklings!"

Metronix lowered his arms and gave Grimlock his saddest, most plaintive look. "Pleeeeeeease?"

"Hmmm... well, maybe me Grimlock give ride this once." He lowered his muzzle to the floor and, with a nudge and a slight flip of his head, tossed the sparkling lightly into the air so he landed on his shoulders. "Hang on tight!"

"'Kay!" Metronix settled himself on the Dinobot's shoulders and cling tightly to his neck. "Go fast!"

* * *

><p><em>I'm going to kill Sideswipe as soon as we find Metronix, <em>Prime thought darkly as strode down the hallway. _Or at the very least have his tires removed and displayed on my wall for the next planetary cycle. _

It had been an hour since that horrible call from Sideswipe, and they still hadn't found him. Every mech in the base was on full alert and had been ordered to call Prime the moment they saw him, but there had been no word whatsoever. Ironhide had grumbled something about Metronix finally regaining his memory and fleeing the base entirely, but a quick check with the sentries showed that he hadn't left out of any of the base exits. He was somewhere aboard the Ark... but where?

"I swear I have no idea where he ended up," Ratchet insisted, having to run to keep up with Prime's brisk stride. "I saw him leave the medical center, but I didn't see which way he went."

"It wasn't your responsibility to keep track of him," Prime told him in a clipped voice. "I don't hold you responsible for this."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" Sideswipe whined, hurrying behind the commander and medic and looking like he wanted to go crawl into a hole somewhere and deactivate. "I thought he'd come right back, I didn't mean for him to disappear like this-"

"We'll deal with YOU later, Strawberry!" Ratchet snapped. "Bad enough I've got a large python running loose in my medbay now, but using a sparkling as an accomplice for your pranks? What were you thinking?! If you were even thinking!"

"I said I was sorry!" Sideswipe protested. "Look, I'll find the kid, I'll find the snake, this is all my fault, what more do you want from me?"

"Enough!" Prime barked, never breaking his stride. "Let's focus on finding Metronix first. I want to make sure he's safe before anything else is done."

"You're sure he didn't return to your quarters?" asked Ratchet. "If he was startled, it's possible he just went to the place he feels safest."

"I searched my room," Prime replied. "He's not there."

"Let's tell Red Alert," Sideswipe suggested. "He's got security cameras all over this joint, I'm sure he could find him in two seconds..."

Prime halted so suddenly that Sideswipe nearly ran right into him. They'd just reached a T-intersection in the corridor, and down the left-hand hallway he could hear the growling and roaring of the Dinobots... and the high-pitched shrieks of a sparkling. Cold terror gripped his spark, and without a word of warning to Ratchet or Sideswipe he transformed and tore down the hallway. Of all the mechs Metronix could have run into on his wanderings, it had to be the Dinobots! Had he antagonized them to the point where they had attacked? Or did Grimlock, like Ironhide, still think of the sparkling as Megatron and had acted accordingly? Self-restraint had never been one of the Dinobots' strengths, and in the presence of their worst enemy he doubted even a direct threat from Prime would have stopped them from attacking.

Someone had left the doors to the Dinobots' quarters open, and he tore inside without even hailing Grimlock, figuring he could do something to appease the Dinobot commander later. He started the change to robot mode before he'd even come to a complete stop, leaving a swath of skid marks behind him, and he had his gun out and ready to fire a stun blast the moment he was on his feet.

The sight before him was so incredible that for a moment he could only stare in shock. Metronix was still shrieking - but they were shrieks of laughter as he clung to Slag's back. The Triceratops Dinobot was giving the sparkling the ride of his life, bucking and snorting and tossing his head like a rodeo bull, though his movements were just careful enough to avoid throwing Metronix across the room. Grimlock, in robot mode, sat on a box off to one side, looking rather tired but content, and the other Dinobots hooted and cheered noisily at the unexpected show.

Grimlock glanced up, just noticing Prime's presence, and gave a lazy wave. "You Prime lost something?"

Prime slowly lowered his weapon, though he didn't take his optics off Slag. "Is that even safe?"

"Him Slag be careful," Grimlock assured him. "And him Metronix like fast and exciting." He laughed a little as Slag gave one more buck and flopped onto his belly, too exhausted to move even as Metronix bounced on his back and demanded that he go again. "Tired me Grimlock out, so made him Slag take turn."

"So you're okay with Metronix?" Prime asked.

Grimlock snorted. "You Prime think us Dinobots mean to sparkling? Us Dinobots not smart, but us not animals either. Him like us Dinobots, us Dinobots like back."

Relief washed over Prime, and he finally allowed himself to relax his stance. "Why didn't you contact me when I radioed you? We've been looking for him."

"Us Dinobots having fun," Grimlock replied dismissively. "Not want to give him Metronix back yet. Would have called when us Dinobots tired of him."

"Next time, alert me immediately if he enters your quarters," Prime replied sternly, then let his voice soften. "But he's welcome to stay, so long as you're careful with him and let me know if he's with you." He chuckled softly. "You might let him ride Swoop next. He might enjoy flying, so long as Swoop's careful."

Grimlock nodded. "Will do, Prime."

"Thank you." He turned to Metronix now, who had slid down to sit between Slag's horns. "Be good for the Dinobots, all right? They're new to having you around."

"'Kay, Daddy," he replied. "Can I stay? Wanna play more!"

"Of course. I'll come get you when it's time for the energon break." He nodded once at Grimlock in farewell before turning to the door, where Ratchet and Sideswipe were watching. The medic wore an amused grin, while Sideswipe just gave Prime a sheepish look.

"All's well that ends well, right?" asked Sideswipe. "Um, am I still in trouble?"

"Report to my office," Prime replied. "We'll discuss this there."

Sideswipe groaned. "I'm so dead, I just know it." He slunk off.

"Cut him a bit of slack, sir," Ratchet advised. "This is a first for everyone here, having a little one around. We're all going to make mistakes. And believe it or not, I'm sure Sides'll be more careful from here on out."

Prime knew Ratchet had a point. Still, he had no desire to repeat this scenario. The next time Metronix went missing, it might not end so benignly.


	7. Chapter 7

Supply shipments from Cybertron usually arrived once every few months, and the task of receiving and inventorying said supplies normally fell on Ratchet, Red Alert, and any Autobots who were serving some sort of disciplinary action at the moment or were just unlucky enough to be around when Ratchet was scouting out "volunteers." As Skyfire or Sky Lynx dropped off crates of spare parts, tools, vital records, and all the other materials needed to keep the base functioning that couldn't be found on Earth, Red Alert would search each crate for potential threats while Ratchet checked the loading forms and made sure they matched up with the acquisition list. Then it would be up to whatever Autobots Ratchet had drafted to lug everything into the base proper and get it stored away. It wasn't a particularly hard job, just tedious and heavy, and as a result mechs tended to make themselves scarce whenever an incoming shuttle was spotted.

Today the task fell on Sideswipe and Bumblebee - the former to make up for his prank against Ratchet, the latter a rare volunteer for the task. They waited while Red Alert ran a scanner over a crate to check for hidden bombs or other traps, Sideswipe tapping one foot impatiently and Bumblebee looking on curiously.

"Speed it up a little, Red," Sideswipe advised. "Let's get this done already."

"Safety should never be rushed," Red Alert replied firmly, setting the scanner aside and reaching for a prybar. "What if a Decepticon infiltrator seeded our supplies with explosives or Cosmic Rust spores? We can't be too careful."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Sideswipe muttered. "How long is this gonna take?"

"It'll get done when it gets done, hotshot," Ratchet replied, checking something off his list. "If you don't like it, I can find you a new assignment with Hoist and Grapple."

Sideswipe groaned. "No thanks, I'm good."

"Anything interesting in this load?" asked Bumblebee.

Ratchet checked the datapad, running his finger down the lines of text. "Nothing out of the ordinary yet. Spare parts, cybertonium, mech fluid, some volumes from the archives, power cells for weapons..." He paused, and his finger paused over a particular listing. "Huh..."

"Is that a 'huh, interesting' or a 'huh, something's wrong' there?" asked Bumblebee.

"The first one," Ratchet replied, looking up from the datapad to study the crate Red Alert was trying to pry open. "And it happens to be that crate you're dealing with, Red."

Red Alert yipped and dropped the prybar, backing away. "Is it dangerous?"

"Calm down, it's not dangerous," Ratchet chided. "If it passed your scan, it's safe."

"Well, don't leave us in suspense," Sideswipe grumbled, walking up and gripping the lid of the crate. "What the heck's in here that's so interesting..." He wrenched the lid open. "...huh."

"So what is it?" asked Bumblebee curiously, peering around Sideswipe.

"It's toys," Sideswipe replied, reaching in and pulling out a miniature model of an _Ark-_type spaceship. "For Metro, I'm guessin'."

"Who else would we be ordering them for?" Ratchet asked, arching an optic ridge. "Maybe you, given that you and your twin have the mentality of sparklings sometimes."

"Har har," Sideswipe retorted, digging through the crate some more. "Oh hey, I remember this!" He pulled out a wide, flat object with a look of utter delight on his face. "These were fun!"

"Is that a lightboard?" asked Bumblebee, his own face lighting up. "I had one of those! Only I kept losing the pieces..."

"Lightboard?" Red Alert asked, cocking his head.

"You never had one of these as a sparkling?" Sideswipe asked. "You poor deprived spark! These were the best!"

"Lightboards came out WAY after I was upgraded," Ratchet told the security officer. "You made designs on them by inserting colored pegs in the holes, and then it'd light up and illuminate them to make your design glow. The humans have something similar, they call it a Lite Brite or something like that."

"Ah... I was more of a reader as a sparkling," Red Alert confessed. "I didn't have many toys... Sideswipe, put that down! It's not yours!"

Sideswipe looked up from the lightboard. "Aw, c'mon, I'm testing it out for Metronix!" He'd already opened a panel on the side of the board and taken out the pegs, and was proceeding to assemble the pegs in the shape of a vehicle.

"What else is in here?" asked Bumblebee, reaching in. "Lots of toy vehicles and ships, I'm seeing..."

"Will everyone please get back to work?" Red Alert demanded. "We're supposed to be going through the supply shipment, not playing with toys! I have important duties to be getting back to-"

"Toys!"

All four mechs looked up to see Metronix walking out onto the landing pad. In the absence of proper Cybertronian toys he had been making do with the largest human-child toys Optimus could find, and he was dragging one of these behind him right now - an oversized stuffed leopard that he'd imaginatively dubbed "Spotty." The plush animal was already looking a bit worn and dirty, but no one had the spark to separate it from him, even to wash it.

"Yeah kid, toys!" Sideswipe replied, showing him the lightboard. "Want to see?"

"Yeah!" He rushed over, swinging Spotty enthusiastically with each step.

"The sparkling is not authorized to be out on the landing pad," Red Alert complained. "It's dangerous. He could fall off the edge or have a crate fall on him."

"Oh calm down, worrywart, we've got four adults here to watch over him," Bumblebee teased. "Hey Metronix, look at this!" He brought a toy starship down toward the sparkling, mimicking thruster sounds, and Metronix giggled and made a grab for the ship.

"Looks like everyone's havin' fun out here," Jazz noted, stepping out onto the landing pad at that moment. "There y' are, lil' guy! Don't run off like that, 'kay? Your Daddy'll have my manifold on a platter." He said that last with a grin, indicating he wasn't too upset with the sparkling.

"Hi, Uncle Jazz," Metronix chirped, waving. "I got toys!"

"So y' do," Jazz noted, kneeling to dig through the box as well. "Let's see, we got buildin' blocks, we got a toy cyberdragon, some of those Firstforged action figures..."

"They still make those?" Ratchet asked, setting his datapad aside to have a look for himself. "Back in my day they used to complain that those were in poor taste and should all be melted down. Of course, it just made every sparkling want the whole set for himself even more." He smiled fondly as he pulled a figure out, adjusting its wings and sword-arm.

"Aw, they lightened up 'bout that by th' time I got sparked," Jazz laughed. "Though my co-creation kept poppin' th' heads off mine... ooh, I loved this!" He pulled out a sparkling-sized instrument, similar to a human keyboard but with two rows of multicolored keys instead of a single row of white and black ones.

"What's that?" Metronix asked, dropping the starship he was holding and going over to investigate Jazz's find.

In answer Jazz turned the keyboard on and began touching the keys, picking out a simple melody. Metronix's optics brightened in awe, and when the saboteur had finished the tune he clapped excitedly.

"Again!" he gushed. "Do it again!"

"Can we all please get back to work here?" demanded Red Alert.

"Aw, can't a mech have a lil' fun, Red?" Jazz asked. "Here Metro, lemmie show ya... you push buttons up here an' you can change th' sounds th' different keys make..."

"Dare I ask what's going on here?"

All six mechs glanced up... and the five adults immediately ducked their heads, embarrassed looks on their faces.

"Hi, Daddy!" Metronix greeted, waving. "Look, new toys!"

Optimus Prime nodded at the sparkling before taking in the sight before him. Supply crates littered the landing pad, some sorted into their appropriate stacks but many others untouched. Sideswipe sat in the middle of the landing pad with a light board in his lap, while Bumblebee was surrounded by toy vehicles and still had an _Ark _model in his hands. Ratchet had been lining up the action figures on a crate, posing them in some sort of fight scene, and Jazz still had one hand on the child-size keyboard, paused in the middle of another song. Red Alert just raised his hands and gave Prime a look that clearly begged him not to blame the security officer for this.

"Having fun, children?" Prime asked, tilting his head at an amused angle.

"Just... inspecting the goods, sir," Sideswipe muttered sheepishly, pushing the lightboard away.

"And do they pass inspection?" Prime inquired.

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Bumblebee, pack the toys up and take them to my quarters. Sideswipe, Jazz, Ratchet, back to work. Red Alert, relax a little. A little play never hurt anyone."

Red Alert snorted. "It delays important tasks and threatens our security."

"Aw, lighten up a lil', Red," Jazz teased, and tossed one of the toy starships at the security officer. He fumbled to catch it, then dropped it back in the crate and stalked off toward the next stack with an irritated grumble.

"Someone needs to pull the steel girder out of his exhaust pipe," Sideswipe noted.

"Hey, Red's the best at what he does," Bumblebee pointed out. "Even if it means he's wound a little tightly. It's just the way he is. Hey Metronix, want to help me get these toys picked up? Let's see who can do it the fastest!"

"I'll beat you!" Metronix shouted, and he rushed to grab the action figures.

Prime chuckled and moved off to help Sideswipe with hauling the crates. Perhaps Metronix was just what the Autobots needed - a reminder that there was more to life than the war. Some of his troops never seemed to let themselves relax and enjoy down time, letting themselves get sucked into endless drills and preparations for battle. Having a sparkling around gave them a much-needed excuse to sit down and play... and more importantly, served as a reminder that they were actually fighting for a cause, the cause to restore Cybertron and make it safe for sparklings like Metronix again.

* * *

><p>Of all the places in the break room Bluestreak could have picked to sit, he had to park his aft right next to Mirage.<p>

The spy fought the urge to roll his optics and kept his gaze focused on the cube in front of him, doing his best to tune the gunner out. Maybe if he ignored Bluestreak, he'd realize his natter wasn't wanted and either leave or mute his vocalizer. Then Mirage could have a moment of peace. But Bluestreak didn't seem to get the hint.

"...and I didn't realize there was a snake loose in the medbay or else I might have been a little more careful - I mean, I'm not scared of snakes, not like Ratchet is, though I dunno why snakes bother him so much since their fangs don't even go through our plating, but still, I wanted to be careful, organics are delicate! But anyhow, so I go to sit on the berth and wait my turn for virus updates, and guess what I almost sat on!"

"A land mine," Mirage guessed rather sarcastically.

"No, it was the snake," Bluestreak corrected. "Pretty big one too, I wonder where Sideswipe got it... but yeah, I pointed it out to Ratchet, and wow, I had no idea he could jump that high! From the floor to the counter in one leap! I think he scared the snake more than he scared it, though, it took off... thankfully the little buggers aren't that fast, Wheeljack caught it, but Ratchet was yelling the whole time telling him to get it the frag out of medbay... I dunno where it is now, I think Hound's got it..."

Mirage shuttered his optics, as if by doing that he could also close his audials off to the chatter, and downed the rest of his cube. He was too polite, he decided. Another, less cultured mech might have told Bluestreak to shut his yap already, or just gotten up and left in the hopes that the gunner wouldn't follow. But vorns of life among the nobles of Cybertron had engrained hard and fast rules of etiquette into Mirage's programming, and even in his current state as a common soldier surrounded by mechs of less aristocratic lineage, said rules still held sway over his life. And it was considered extreme rudeness to tell another mech to shut up or to leave in the middle of a conversation.

Fortunately, Bluestreak wouldn't be able to pester him for long. Once he was through with his energon break, he had sentry duty outside for the night. Most mechs detested night shifts on guard duty, but Mirage preferred it. As a sentry he would have some much-needed alone time, and nights on Earth, especially this far from human habitation, provided a quality of solitude that more sociable mechs tended to find unnerving but which suited Mirage just fine. He had spent many a long night gazing at the stars, picking out Cybertron's sun from among the glittering expanse and wondering how the planet was faring, remembering happier times among his friends and comrades back home...

Bluestreak's sudden exclamation brought him out of his thoughts. "Oh hey, Metronix, what's up? Where's your dad... uh-oh, are you okay?"

Mirage unshuttered his optics and looked to the side to see Metronix standing by their table, clutching his stuffed animal and gazing up at the two mechs with such an expression of woe that, despite all efforts to steel himself against it, his spark lurched in response. Irritably he tried to ignore that sudden feeling. This was Megatron, despite everyone's claims to the contrary. And while he wasn't as thoroughly convinced that he could turn back into Megatron at any moment as Ironhide seemed to be, he still couldn't forget that this was the mech responsible for the destruction of Cybertron's towers, and the very reason he'd been forced to leave his homeworld in the first place...

He pushed those thoughts aside and looked the sparkling over for anything that might be upsetting him. He didn't look injured, at least. Had something happened to Optimus? Or had another mech yelled at him for something?

"What is it?" he asked at last, keeping his voice neutral - not cold, but not overly welcoming either.

Metronix's optics brimmed with fluid as he choked back a sob. "S-Spotty's broken." He held up the leopard, revealing a hind leg that was dangling from the body by a few threads.

"Awww, poor Spotty," Bluestreak cooed, crouching by Metronix to look the plushie over. "How'd it happen? Did somebody rip him or something?"

"H-he got s-stuck," Metronix whimpered. "Was hidin' from Uncle Jazz an' Spotty got stuck... an' when I pulled him out..." He buried his face in the black-and-white fur of the plushie and started to cry.

"Bluestreak, don't upset him," Mirage chided, glaring at the gunner.

"I didn't!" Bluestreak protested. "I just asked him what was wrong! C'mon, Metronix, calm down... let's take him to Ratchet, maybe he can fix him! Or Wheeljack, if he's not busy..."

"If you take it to Wheeljack, it will come back with a detonation switch," Mirage pointed out. "Besides, it's a fabric toy, not a machine. You can't repair them the same way you repair a machine."

"Oh." Bluestreak pondered that, momentarily stumped into silence. "Well, you seem to know about fabrics and stuff, Mirage. Maybe you can fix it?"

Mirage barely suppressed a sigh. Yes, he knew something about how to mend torn fabrics. Most common Cybertronians saw fabric as weak and useless, but nobles had often used the material in decorating their homes, and curtains, banners, and tapestries had often graced his apartments. Some even wore cloaks or elaborate costumes of the stuff, though such practices had ceased after the war as fabric factories had shut down to make way for weapon and war-machine production. And while drones had handled most of his repair work while he'd still lived in the Towers, he had insisted on doing fabric repair himself, as it took a far more delicate touch than most drones were capable of.

Still, there was a big difference between repairing one of his damaged tapestries and mending a child's toy. At least, there was in his mind. And part of him felt it was beneath him to attend to the plushie.

But in the end, Metronix's wide begging optics won out, and with a sigh he reached for the toy. "I'll do it. But just this once."

"Yay!" Bluestreak cheered. "See, Metronix? Mirage is gonna make Spotty all better! You just wait and see!"

"'Kay," Metronix replied, not sounding so sure. "Can I watch?"

"If you insist," Mirage replied, taking the stuffed leopard and reaching into subspace for his tools. Thankfully they were still there - he'd grown into the habit of carrying them at all times back at the Towers, and he'd never thought to leave them behind even when he'd enlisted into the army. Hopefully they were still in good working order.

"You keep your repair stuff on you all the time?" Bluestreak asked curiously. "That's funny, never seen you pull it out before, though it's not like we wear clothes all the time, so I guess you haven't needed it until now..."

"Bluestreak, I would like some silence while I work," Mirage told him. At least etiquette permitted him to silence the gunner when there was a task he had to concentrate on. And wonder of wonders, Bluestreak actually stopped talking, allowing the spy to work in semi-silence.

Metronix watched quietly for a few minutes as Mirage worked, carefully snipping the last few threads connecting the leg to the body and studying how the limb had originally fit onto the rest of the plushie. He seemed fascinated by the process, his tears forgotten. He almost looked... innocent, Mirage thought. As innocent as any other sparkling...

He shook his head and went back to work, selecting a needle from among his tools. Most other mechs used a handheld automatic stitcher when sewing fabrics, preferring speed over accuracy, but Mirage found such a tool a crude substitute for actual hand-done repairs. He found he could achieve much neater results using only his fingers and a needle, and prided himself in mending cloth so well that one was hard-pressed to spot the repair afterwards. Even if this was only a child's toy, he still intended to do the best repair job he was capable of on it.

"Wow, you're pretty good," Bluestreak noted. "Oops, sorry! You didn't want me to talk..."

Mirage waved the apology away and kept stitching. "I had quite a bit of practice at this back home."

Metronix cocked his head curiously. "Home? But... the Ark is home."

Mirage looked up a moment from his work. "You don't remember Cybertron?"

Metronix shook his head. "Daddy has pictures of it. An' heard people talking about it."

"He hasn't been there, remember, 'Raj?" Bluestreak pointed out. "Of course he wouldn't remember it."

Mirage wanted to point out that Megatron had practically ruled Cybertron for millennia, but stopped himself. He kept forgetting that Metronix had no memory of being Megatron. "Cybertron was home for all of us," he explained. "It's where many of us spent most of our lives. And we're all working to return to it someday."

"Oh." Metronix still looked puzzled. "Why?"

"Because... well, it's home." What other reason did he need?

"But the Ark is home too!" Metronix protested. "Daddy's here, an' Uncle Jazz an' Uncle Ratchet an' Uncle Grimlock! An' Sideswipe an' Sunstreaker an' Hound an' 'Bee an'..." His voice trailed off, as if he'd already listed everyone important and couldn't come up with anything else. "Why's that not home? Why leave?"

Mirage opened his mouth to reply, then slowly shut it. From the sparkling's point of view, that made perfect sense. Everything he knew was here, after all. He had no memories of Cybertron, and thus nothing there to miss. It wasn't as simple for the rest of the Autobots, though - they couldn't just forget about Cybertron and move on...

"You're pretty smart for a little guy," Bluestreak said with a laugh, reaching over to pat Metronix's helm. "That's a very good point. The Ark's home for us too - a second home, I guess. And I guess we can miss our old home on Cybertron, but still call this place home too."

Mirage had never thought about it in quite that way. He'd been reluctant to call Earth home, he supposed - the planet was dull and dirty compared to the glittering homeworld from his memories. But he did have friends here - Hound, Tracks, Trailbreaker, Prowl, and others. And the hallways of the Ark and the well-worn paths in the wildlands surrounding the base had become comfortingly familiar to him. He would continue to miss Cybertron, and he would always look forward to the day he could return to it... but just as Bluestreak had pointed out, that didn't mean he couldn't consider Earth a second home.

"Is Spotty done?" Metronix asked, changing the subject.

"Very nearly," Mirage replied, putting the last few stitches into the leg seam. "Let me tie this off and..." He snipped the last bit of thread and held the plushie up for inspection. "There."

"Wow, good as new!" Bluestreak gushed.

That wasn't entirely true - in the few weeks Metronix had owned the plushie it had become grimy and stained, and its belly was already a little threadbare from being dragged on the ground constantly. But it was in one piece now, at least. And unless one looked closely, they couldn't even tell where it had been ripped.

"Spotty!" Metronix grabbed the plushie and hugged it close. "He's all better!"

"Try not to damage it again," Mirage advised. "I won't be around to fix it all the time-"

Without warning Metronix lunged, flinging his arms around the blue mech. Mirage froze, stunned, then realized the sparkling wasn't attacking... he was hugging him.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed, squeezing as tightly as he could. "Thank you, Uncle 'Raj!"

"So I'm Uncle now?" Mirage asked, raising an optic ridge.

Metronix was spared a reply by Optimus' call. "Metronix, let's go! It's time for your checkup!"

"'Kay, Daddy!" He gave Mirage a final squeeze, then scurried away, Spotty tucked under one arm as he ran.

Bluestreak giggled. "He's cute. And I think he likes you."

Mirage managed a smile. "He's not that bad... he rather grows on you."

"You like him!" Bluestreak teased, lightly punching Mirage in the shoulder. "Admit it!"

"A spy admits nothing under duress, Bluestreak," Mirage shot back, smirking just a little.

"Was that a joke, Mirage? From you?" He laughed. "Do wonders never cease?"

"Ha ha. See you in the morning, I have sentry duty tonight."

"That's the Pit. Take care of yourself."

"I fully intend to."

* * *

><p>"I'm beginning to think these weekly checkups are a waste of time," Ratchet complained as he set the scanner aside.<p>

"Aren't you the one who insisted on 'em?" Wheeljack asked, headfins blinking in an amused smile.

"The first couple of weeks, yes," Ratchet replied, glaring at the scientist. "It's been Prowl who's been demanding them past that. Mech's as much of a worrywart as Red Alert sometimes, though he'll never admit it." He patted Metronix's back. "We're done, little guy. You can get down now."

Metronix nodded and slid down from the table, hurrying over to hug against Prime's legs.

"Why do you say they're a waste of time, Ratchet?" Prime asked, stooping to scoop Metronix up in his arms.

"Because for the sixth time in a row, there's been nothing abnormal on the scans whatsoever," Ratchet replied. "No spark fluctuations, no unusual energy readings, nothing. There's not even a trace of the temporal energy that wretched immobilizer runs on. There's been a few shifts in his spark readings, but that's normal for any developing sparkling."

Prime couldn't help but relax at that news. "So he shows no signs of changing back to his original form?"

"Pretty much," Wheeljack put in. "We're thinkin' if he was gonna change back, he would be showing some kinda signs by now - a flare of temporal energy, maybe, or his spark suddenly maturing at a faster rate. There's been nothin' of the kind, though."

"We'll have to keep running weekly scans until Prowl orders otherwise," Ratchet said in conclusion. "But at this point? I think we can safely assume that he's going to stay this way. At least, until his spark matures normally and he's given his upgrade."

Prime nodded, feeling a rush of relief at the medical officer's report. Megatron was gone for good, and Metronix was here to stay. Now if only he could get Prowl and Ironhide to accept that. Both still acted as if the sparkling would revert back to Megatron at any moment, and while Prowl at least kept his worries to himself when Metronix was around, Ironhide had no qualms about being openly hostile toward the sparkling. He hadn't attempted to harm him, which was a plus... but Prime had a sickening feeling that only the constant presence of other mechs kept the old warrior under control.

"He is healthy?" Prime asked, patting the sparkling's back comfortingly. "Developing normally?"

"As normally as any other sparkling this age," Ratchet confirmed.

"You're sure?" Prime pressed. "I admit I haven't been around sparklings much before this, but he seems awfully clingy even for such a young child. He even insists on sleeping in my berth at night." Not that he was complaining about that - he found it oddly flattering that Metronix wanted to be close to him so much. He just wanted to be sure it wouldn't be detrimental to his growth.

Ratchet and Wheeljack exchanged an odd look, one that almost seemed to ask "Should we tell him?" Wheeljack shrugged, and Ratchet sighed heavily before turning to face Prime again.

"Wheeljack had a theory on that," he explained. "We've noticed from the beginning that he seems to prefer your company over anyone else's. It's not just a recent thing either - from the very beginning he's instinctively gone to you first. And if he's sneaking into your berth at night... that's just one more bit of evidence to prove that theory."

"What theory?"

"That he's drawn to you," Wheeljack replied. "Or more accurately, to the Matrix."

That was something he hadn't expected, and despite himself every servo in his body tensed. "He's drawn to the Matrix?"

"To the energy it puts out, to be specific," Wheeljack went on. "It's not what you think - we don't think it's the Megatron in him wanting to grab it for himself or anything. It's... how do I put this?"

"You're a Prime," Ratchet cut in. "Chosen and sworn to protect and defend all life. And it's the Matrix that makes you so. Sparklings as a rule tend to be more sensitive to energy output of any kind, and that includes the energy of the Matrix. We believe that Metronix can sense that energy in you, and because of that he recognizes you as a protective being, a source of safety. He seeks you out because he knows you'll protect him."

Prime was silent as he absorbed that information, one hand still on Metronix's back as the sparkling tucked against him. In all the time he'd borne the Matrix, he hadn't known this. He'd rarely encountered sparklings back on Cybertron, and those times he did interact with them they usually weren't around for more than a few hours. And Alpha Trion had never mentioned it... but then, he hadn't had a great deal of time to study under the old mech before the war had set in with a vengeance, and perhaps Alpha Trion hadn't considered it important.

"Is this a bad thing?" he asked finally.

"Not good or bad," Ratchet replied. "It just is." He managed a bit of a smile. "We're just fortunate that you like Metronix as much as Metronix likes you. If I recall correctly, the last Prime we had didn't like kids at all."

Prime chuckled softly. "Perhaps he would have changed his mind had he met Metronix."

"Maybe, maybe not," Ratchet pointed out. "At any rate, we'll never know-"

Metronix squeaked in fright as alarms went off all over the base. Prime instinctively tightened his grip on the sparkling, rubbing his back in an effort to calm him even as he demanded a report on the situation.

_Seekers incoming from the west, _Mirage informed him. _Starscream, Thundercracker, Skywarp, Dirge, Ramjet... and it appears the triple-changers are accompanying them. It looks as if they're heading for The Dalles. _A disdainful snort. _Are they that stupid, to filch energy out from under our olfactory sensors?_

_It's Starscream, what'd you expect? _Ironhide retorted. _Orders, Prime?_

_Jazz, Ironhide, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Bluestreak, Brawn, Windcharger, Aerialbots, meet me outside, _Prime ordered. _We move out to The Dalles immediately. Prowl, Mirage, Tracks, Trailbreaker, Hound, Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Powerglide, Dinobots, stand by in case we need backup. _That done, he set Metronix down and knelt in front of him.

"I have to go," he told the sparkling gently. "I'll be back as soon as I can. Stay with Ratchet, all right?"

"Wanna go with you," Metronix insisted, looking worriedly up at Prime. "Don't leave me, Daddy."

"It's too dangerous," Prime replied. "I don't want you hurt. Ratchet will take care of you, okay?"

Metronix wrapped his arms around Prime's neck, squeezing tightly. "Come back soon."

"I will... I promise." He gave the sparkling a comforting pat on the back, then unwound his arms from around his neck and stood. "Ratchet, Wheeljack, prepare medbay for possible incoming casualties. And keep an optic on Metronix for me."

"Will do," Ratchet replied. "Metronix, you can help me. Start wiping off berths so that they're clean for any mechs who need them."

"'Kay!" Metronix rushed off to find a cleaning rag.

Prime nodded in approval before hurrying out of the medbay. Ratchet knew what he was doing - by keeping Metronix occupied, he'd keep him from worrying excessively about Prime while he was gone. And it would encourage Metronix to want to help more around the base instead of causing trouble.

While Prime rushed to lead his troops to defend the dam, Ratchet, Wheeljack, and Metronix hurried to prepare the medbay. They were so busy that none of them thought to look up... or perhaps they might have seen the glimmer of optics in the ventilation grate as Ravage watched, waiting for the right moment to act.


	8. Chapter 8

_Are these mechs ever going to leave him alone? _thought Ravage acidly, glaring at the back of Ratchet's head through the vent as the medic sorted through his toolkit for what had to be the fifth time. Metronix stood by his side and watched, enthralled and asking what each tool was and what it did. Ratchet answered patiently, but Ravage could hear the undercurrent of anxiety in his voice - the medic knew the aftermath of the battle would mean an influx of fresh repairs, and he dreaded it with all his spark.

Ravage reached up with a paw to scratch at his audial receiver, mostly to stave off boredom. He should have been out on the battlefield with his brothers, not here. He owed Steeljaw a beatdown, and if he ever managed to corner Hound he swore he'd chew the scout's tires off for scorching his rump in their last encounter. But Soundwave had given him an assignment, and he wouldn't go back to the Nemesis until he'd completed his objective or his creator called him back. He wanted Megatron back just as much as Soundwave did - Starscream wasn't a terrible leader, but his arrogance and vanity were enough to wear even Soundwave's patience thin. And if getting Megatron back meant shadowing a sparkling and looking for the right opportunity to spirit him away from the Autobots, then so be it.

That didn't mean he had to be particularly happy about it, though. This wasn't the most thrilling job in the world by a long shot, and if something didn't happen soon he'd have to stage a distraction of some kind just to make it interesting.

_Watch Metronix, _Soundwave had ordered him. _Show yourself to him when he is alone. Gain his trust. Then find a way to lure him away from the Autobots, and take him to the base. The other cassettes will retrieve the Immobilizer._

Not a bad plan... except that in the month-and-a-half that Ravage had been tailing Metronix he hadn't been by himself long enough for the cassette-cat to get close to him. These Autobots were overprotective of him, hovering over him as if he'd break if left by himself. They were going to smother him if they weren't careful.

"Hey Ratchet, gimmie a hand here!" Wheeljack called from out of Ravage's line of sight. "We're fresh out of sterilizing fluid, and I can't find my key to the storeroom!"

"Hold your horsepower, I'm coming," Ratchet grumbled. "Metronix, go into my office for now, all right? Don't touch anything."

"'Kay." Metronix moved to a door in the back of the medbay while Ratchet hurried off.

A tremor of excitement moved down Ravage's frame, and he turned and padded down another branch of the ventilation shaft. The circumstances couldn't have been more perfect for him to make his move. But he had to act fast, or who knew when he'd get another chance at this.

First things first, though. He found a loose panel, pried it open, and grabbed a camera cable in his teeth, snipping it. Wouldn't do good to have Red Alert spying on his little rendezvous with his former commander, would it? That done, he slipped down a shaft leading directly into the medic's office.

* * *

><p>Metronix had never been in Uncle Ratchet's office before, so he had no idea what to expect when he went inside. But he certainly hadn't expected a creature to drop down from the ceiling the moment the door shut behind him. The sleek black animal landed smartly on Ratchet's desk, then sat back on its haunches and regarded Metronix curiously.<p>

"Kitty!" he squealed.

The cat pinned its ears back, then raised a paw to its mouth, almost as if hushing him.

"Oh... okay," he whispered, nodding. If Ratchet had been upset about a snake being in his repair bay, he probably wouldn't be happy about a cat being in his office. And Metronix wanted a closer look at it before Ratchet tossed it out.

The cat leaped gracefully down from the desk, landing almost soundlessly on the floor. Then it padded closer to Metronix and lifted its head to inspect him, sniffing lightly. Its head came almost level to his chest, and when it got close he could see the tips of its fangs poking from its lip plates and missiles jutting from its hips. But it showed no signs of attacking him, simply circled him and sniffed him from helm to foot. It even gave Spotty a thorough inspection, though something about the curl of its lip seemed to indicate that it thought the toy leopard a poor imitation of the real thing.

Metronix giggled as the cat's nose brushed against the small of his back. "Tickles!" He reached out to pet it, rubbing it behind the ears. The cat paused, tensing, then relaxed under his fingers.

_There, that's the spot, _a voice sounded in his head. _Harder..._

"You talk!" He jerked his hand back. "A talking kitty!"

_Keep your voice down, _the cat ordered, ears laying flat again. _If the adults find me here, they'll throw me out. You already know they're not too fond of animals._

"Oh yeah," he whispered. "Uncle Ratchet got all mad about the snake."

The cat nodded. _And yes, I do talk. I don't have a vocalizer like you, though, so I have to resort to the shortband radio. My name is Ravage. _

"Hi Ravage," Metronix replied, grinning. "I'm Metronix."

_Good to meet you, Metronix. _He nosed his hand. _Keep scratching. You're not supposed to stop in the middle of a good scratch, you know._

Metronix obliged, scritching his neck and the back of his head. "How come I never saw you before? Were you hiding?"

_That's the spot, _Ravage murmured, a throaty purr thrumming through his chassis. _And yes, I was hiding. The Autobots don't like me, so I have to stay out of sight. But you looked like a friendly sort, so I had to stop by and say hello. It seems my instincts proved correct, as they so often do._

"Why don't they like you?" Metronix wondered. Ravage seemed harmless enough, and if he could sneak around the base without making a sound and talk without a vocalizer, he was actually pretty cool in the sparkling's optics. "I like you, an' I know Daddy would like you if he met you!"

Ravage tensed slightly. _Your father wouldn't like it if he knew I was talking to you. So let's keep this quiet, shall we?_

"Like a secret?" Metronix didn't feel entirely comfortable with keeping a secret from Daddy. But he didn't want Ravage to get hurt or thrown out either. "Okay. I won't tell."

_Good boy. _Ravage arched his back as Metronix moved to scratch him between the shoulder joints. _I'll try to stop by often, though it will have to be when the adults aren't around. Do you think you can manage to find a moment here or there to avoid them, so I may visit you?_

"Uh-huh! I'm good at findin' hiding places!" He patted Ravage's head. "We can play games!"

_That we could, _Ravage agreed. _And we could talk undisturbed about... certain matters. _There was a peculiar glitter in Ravage's optics when he said that. _I think we could grow to be good friends, Metronix._

Metronix nodded eagerly. "You're cool. When can you come back?"

Ravage's ears pricked up as footsteps sounded just outside the door. _I have to go. And to answer you're question, I'm not sure. But keep an optic out for me, okay?_

"Okay. Bye, Ravage."

Ravage bobbed his head in farewell, then leaped up onto the desk. With an almost effortless bound he vanished into the open grate in the ceiling, then reached out with a claw to pull it back into place. By the time the door to the office opened, there was no sign that the cat had even been in the room.

"Behavin' yourself in here, Metro?" asked Wheeljack, walking into the office.

"Uh-huh," he replied. "Just playin' with the kitty-" He slapped a hand over his mouth, suddenly terrified. He'd broken his promise to Ravage already!

Wheeljack, thankfully, misunderstood him. "Playing with Spotty? That's good. Hey kiddo, you're gonna have to go with Uncle Jazz for a bit, okay? The fight's over and medbay's gotten crazy, so it's best if you don't stay here."

"Daddy's back?" he asked. "Can I see him?"

"Um... that might not be best, kid. Better if you stay with Uncle Jazz for now."

"But I want Daddy!" he insisted.

"Easy, lil' guy," Jazz told him, ducking in behind Wheeljack. "You gotta stay with me for a lil' bit, okay? It won't be too long..."

"No!" Metronix bolted forward, pushing past Jazz and into the medbay.

"Stop the kid!" Wheeljack shouted. "Quick! Before he sees..."

Metronix skidded to a stop just in time to avoid smacking into First Aid's legs. The medic didn't seem to notice him - he was busy trying to help Bluestreak to a berth. The silver mech whimpered with each step he took, and one of his legs was smoking and dripping fluids as he went. For a few seconds Metronix just stared in shock, wondering what had happened to hurt him like this.

Uncle Ratchet charged by at that moment, and Metronix scurried after him. He got the feeling something scary had happened, but surely Ratchet could make it right, couldn't he? He could at least tell him where Daddy was...

"Swoop, get me a power pack!" Ratchet shouted. "We've got to get Prime stabilized!"

"What happened out there?" Prowl demanded. "Seekers wouldn't do this kind of damage..."

"Fraggin' tin turkeys weren't alone," Ironhide grumbled. "They brought Devastator along fer the ride. An' th' Aerialbots couldn't form Superion 'cause Starscream an' crew were keepin' 'em busy."

"How many casualties?" asked Prowl. "And what's the damage to the dam?"

"Everyone's at least dented," Ironhide replied. "Prime, Blue, Sides, Silverbolt, an' Fireflight got th' worst of it. Just some surface damage to th' dam, nothin' Hoist can't fix..."

Metronix caught up with Ratchet and grabbed for his hand. "Uncle Ratchet!"

Ratchet jerked his hand up. "Metronix, I'm busy. Go with Jazz like Wheeljack asked you to."

"Fraggit, why's Megatron in here?" Ironhide snapped. "Y'all got a death wish or somethin'? He shouldn't be around our injured!"

"Now is NOT the time for this, Ironhide!" Ratchet barked.

"Uncle Ratchet, where's..." began Metronix, but his optics fell on the mech stretched out on the berth in front of them, and he couldn't get the rest of his question out.

Optimus Prime lay quietly on the berth, optics dim as if he were in recharge. His body was covered in dirt and soot and leaking fluids, and his chest looked like something had ripped it open. His internals lay exposed, smoking and sparking in places, and the ragged edges of the wound were black with char. There were other damages - the tires on his legs were shredded and one arm looked almost pulled out of socket - but it was the chest wound that drew Metronix's horrified stare.

"Daddy!" He grabbed onto the edge of the berth and tried to climb up beside him, but hands clamped onto his sides and pulled him away. "Daddy! Wake up! Daddy!" He kicked and squirmed at the mech holding him, wanting only to be beside his father right now.

"Sorry, he got away from me!" Jazz wrapped his arms around Metronix in an effort to keep him from breaking free. "Primus, lil' guy's stronger than he looks."

"Just get him out of here," Ratchet ordered. "Metronix, he'll be fine, but you have to stay out of the medbay until everyone's fixed. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is."

"No!" he protested, beating his fists against Jazz's chest. He didn't want them to kick him out of the medbay, not when Daddy was hurt! He needed to be by him, to be sure he was going to wake up. Why couldn't the adults see that? Why were they keeping him from the one mech he trusted above all else?

"Lil' 'Con's turnin' violent already," Ironhide noted. "Didn't I say he'd-"

"Shut up, Ironhide!" Ratchet snapped. "Jazz, get him out of here before he hurts himself! First Aid, Wheeljack, get your afts over here and help me! Ironhide, go see Perceptor for repairs - and stop rolling your optics at me!"

Jazz made for the door, struggling to keep a grip on the squirming sparkling without hurting him. "Calm down, Metro," he told him in a soothing voice. "Your daddy's gonna be fine... ya just gotta let Ratchet do his job, 'kay?"

"But I wanna be there," he whimpered, pushing away from the larger mech's chest to look him in the visor. "I want Daddy... I wanna know he's okay." His optics stung with built-up cleanser, and he wiped his face on the back of his hand.

"I know, lil' guy," Jazz said softly. "We all worry when Prime gets hurt. But doncha worry. Uncle Ratchet'll make him right. You'll see."

Metronix finally stopped struggling and laid against Jazz's shoulder, his tears dripping onto the black-and-white mech's armor. He wanted to believe Uncle Jazz - he'd never lied to Metronix before, and he'd always been kind. But he couldn't shake the mental image of Daddy's blown-up chest from his CPU. He had vaguely known before that when Autobots went outside to fight, they could come back hurt... but today had been the first time he'd actually seen those injuries up close. And for the first time, he realized that there was a possibility he could lose Daddy. And that terrified him.

Part of him wanted to see Ravage again - the cat had been friendly and could have provided some comfort. But he knew better than to ask for him with Jazz around. If Daddy didn't like Ravage, the other adults probably weren't too fond of him either.

"I want Spotty," he pleaded. "Where's Spotty?"

"Ya dropped him in Ratch's office," Jazz replied softly, patting his back. "Don't worry, I grabbed 'im for ya. Why don' we go to my room an' you can rest an' cuddle with 'im a bit?"

"'Kay." What he really wanted was to curl up by Daddy's side and be there while Ratchet worked, but he knew that wasn't going to happen.

Jazz's room was a little smaller than his and Daddy's quarters, and the walls were plastered with posters - some of Autobot singers, others with humans or other creatures on them. A thumping beat filled the room, but Jazz headed to a corner and made an adjustment to a music player, and a soothing melody replaced it. Jazz adjusted the volume, dimmed the room's lights, and finally laid Metronix down on the bed, pulling Spotty from subspace and tucking him against the sparkling.

"Uncle Jazz'll wake ya up when your daddy's all fixed, 'kay?" he said softly.

Metronix hugged Spotty close and looked up at the black-and-white mech. "Promise?"

"Cross m' spark, hope t' fry," Jazz vowed, drawing his hand in an X sign over his chestplate. "Promise."

Metronix nodded and curled up, nuzzling Spotty's fur. He had no intention of sleeping, and he wanted to stay awake until Jazz told him Daddy was all better... but the excitement and fear of recent events had tired him out, and despite his best efforts he drifted offline.

* * *

><p>Prowl looked on as Ratchet and First Aid dug around in Prime's chassis, pulling out components that had been melted beyond repair, patching and welding what could be fixed. He kept his keen audial sensors tuned to the murmured chatter the two medics exchanged, catching damages as they listed them and making note of every procedure they made. His CPU quietly catalogued everything for future reference, calculating how long Prime was going to be out of commission, what duties he would be able to perform upon coming out of stasis, and what would have to be delegated to other officers until he was fully recovered. His logic processor was running at full speed, completely undeterred by this latest catastrophe.<p>

Quite separate from his logic processor, however, his spark ached with worry for his friend.

The tactician wasn't stupid - he knew there were Autobots in this army who considered him emotionless, even sparkless. And it wasn't as if he ever did anything to change that image. He was a firm believer in being a leader to his troops, not a buddy, and in ensuring they maintained their respect toward him. Despite the facade, though, he did care about the mechs under his command, and had forged tight friendships with his fellow officers. Even Jazz, as much as his laid-back attitude and unpredictable nature got on Prowl's nerves, was a close friend.

Prime himself was no exception - for all their disagreements on how best to run their army, and for all their recent differences in handling the Metronix situation, Prowl considered him a friend. They had known each other for vorns, each serving as a source of advice and a devil's advocate for the other. And despite what the other officers and troops might think, Prowl did not argue with Prime in order to be difficult. He simply wanted what was best for his friend, even if that meant trying to dissuade him from a course of action he thought dangerous.

Ratchet glanced up at Prowl, as if finally noticing he was there. "You can go, Prowl. We don't need another set of hands here."

Prowl shook his head. "I'll stay and observe."

"What's the matter, don't trust us?" Ratchet asked. "He's stabilized, if that's what you're waiting to hear. It'll be a few hours before he's online again, but he's not going to go into a full system crash or anything while you're gone."

"I trust your judgment and diagnosis, Ratchet," Prowl replied, "but all the same, I wish to stay."

"Get out already," Ratchet ordered, though not unkindly. "I'll comm you if there's any change in his condition. I'd rather not have unnecessary bodies cluttering up the medbay."

Prowl sighed, relenting, and walked out. The medic did have a point - it was best to keep the medbay free of unnecessary personnel. That didn't mean he had to like it.

It seemed that sort of thing had been happening a lot lately, though - things he had to put up with despite not agreeing with them. Such as the decision to keep Metronix on the Ark, and to raise him as an Autobot. There was still a possibility, however small, that Metronix would revert to Megatron again, or regain his memories of his adult life. And either of those scenarios could only end in disaster. They were playing a dangerous game in keeping the sparkling in the base, and Prime seemed determined to continue with it despite the very real risks.

Though the biggest risk in Prowl's mind wasn't the possible damage Megatron could wreak within the walls of the base - it was the damage he could do to Prime himself. Not an assassination, as Red Alert had once thought, but damage to the spark. Even the dullest mech could see that Prime loved Metronix like his own creation, and everyone agreed that it had been a long time since their leader had been this happy. If Metronix were ever to become Megatron, and to turn against the Autobots... it would shatter Prime. And Prowl wanted to avoid that if possible.

When he had voiced that concern to Jazz, the saboteur had only laughed and reminded Prowl that loving another being always entailed risking pain, but that was just what made it worth risking. Prowl had simply made a note not to discuss that particular matter with Jazz again.

Speaking of Jazz, the black-and-white mech had just stuck his head out the door to his quarters, glancing up and down the hall. When he spotted Prowl, his optics lit up, and he waved him closer.

"Prowl, do me a favor?" he asked.

"If this involves watching another one of your idiotic Earth videos, the answer is no," Prowl informed him.

"Not that," Jazz replied. "Can ya keep an optic on Metro for me? I gotta run an' take care of somethin', but I don't want th' lil' guy wakin' up an' findin' himself all alone."

Prowl glared. "I'm not a babysitter, Jazz."

"Aw, c'mon, just this once?" Jazz pleaded. "Pleeeeeeease?"

Prowl's first reaction was to say no. But Jazz was somehow pulling off that expression the humans referred to as "puppy-dog eyes" despite having a visor, practically begging for Prowl to concede. And he did have to admit that he'd feel more comfortable if someone was keeping their optics on the sparkling at all times, just in case something happened.

"Fine," he sighed. "But I expect a favor in return."

"Yer th' greatest XO ever, Prowl," Jazz grinned. "Thanks!"

"I'm the only XO on this ship," Prowl retorted. "Get moving. Try to hurry, I don't have all night."

"Gotcha." He took off at a brisk jog down the corridor.

Metronix looked to be soundly offline when Prowl entered Jazz's quarters and shut the door. The sparkling clung to his plush toy as if it were a priceless treasure, curling his body around it protectively. He was so deeply in recharge that Prowl doubted a couple of Dinobots sparring in this room would wake him up.

Prowl wasn't going to take any chances, though. Megatron had been good at feigning recharge, and at pretending not to pay attention to his surroundings. In reality, little had escaped the warlord's attention, and more than one mech, Autobot assassin and Decepticon traitor alike, had learned the hard and painful way that it was virtually impossible to kill him in his sleep. Some rumors even had it that Megatron hadn't slept at all, but possessed some unnatural ability to keep functioning without nightly defrags and recharge periods. Of course, the rumors also said that he drank the energon of those he slew on the battlefield, and that before leaving Cybertron he had decorated his fortress with the heads and spark chambers of his enemies...

He shook his head in irritation. No more dwelling on that. He had no patience for rumors - he was only interested in cold hard facts. Still, the facts were that Megatron was in this room with him, and that he was responsible for the deaths of millions...

Metronix whimpered once, and he shifted a little as if trying to get comfortable. Then he raised his head to peer sleepily at Prowl.

Prowl forced himself to make optic contact with the sparkling, though every instinct screamed at him to avoid Megatron's gaze. "Go back to sleep."

Metronix just blinked his optic shutters at him, staring at him as if he were something vaguely interesting.

"Go back to sleep," Prowl repeated, frowning. "I'll be watching you until Jazz gets back."

The sparkling stared at him a moment longer. Then he sat up and dangled his legs off the edge of the berth, clutching his stuffed leopard closer and continuing to stare at the tactician.

"You're about as cooperative as a Lamborghini," Prowl noted dryly. "What am I going to do with you?"

The question had been entirely rhetorical, but Metronix seemed to consider it anyhow. He gave a shrug, then returned to his quiet study of the other mech.

Prowl sighed softly. Primus below, he wasn't good with sparklings. They were among the worst kinds of beings to be around - entirely unpredictable, with little concept of logic and a seemingly innate ability to attract chaos. Something like Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Hot Rod, then, except for the facts that sparkings were smaller and keeping them in line with a cuff to the helm was unacceptable. This sort of task was more up Jazz and Hound's alley, not his.

Metronix spoke up at that moment, his voice soft and shaking with worry. "Is Daddy awake yet?"

Prowl took a moment to fire off a query to the medbay before replying. "Not yet. It will be at least another few hours."

Metronix went quiet for a moment, absorbing that information. "Is he gonna..." He sniffed loudly, a sign that optic cleanser had worked its way into his facial vents. "Is he gonna die?"

Not even Prowl was immune to that heartbreaking question, and he let his voice warm just a bit when he replied. "He will not deactivate, Metronix. He is badly injured, but Ratchet is working on him. He will recover."

Metronix squeezed his plush toy so tightly it was a wonder its head didn't suddenly pop off. "I'm scared," he whimpered.

Prowl's optics rebooted in surprise. That had to be the first time in recorded history that the Decepticon leader had ever admitted fear aloud, let alone concern for another mech's well-being. The Megatron he knew wouldn't have cared if his creator lived or died; Metronix, on the other hand, loved Prime like a father, and was quite plainly terrified of losing him. If he had needed proof that he was changing, that Prime's plan to raise him as an Autobot was working, this incident was it.

He wasn't going to let his guard down yet - they were in uncharted territory with this whole situation, and he couldn't predict what would happen down the road. But he would give Metronix a chance.

"Metronix... come here," he ordered softly.

Metronix hesitated, then slid down from the berth and made his way over to Prowl. The tactician reached down and pulled the sparkling up into his lap, letting him lean against his chest. He held Metronix a bit awkwardly, not used to holding a mech this small, but Metronix didn't seem to mind. He simply nestled in against Prowl and relaxed, as if just being close to another mech was comforting.

"If you feel you need to, you can sleep," Prowl told him. "I'll awaken you if I get word that your father's back online."

"'Kay," he murmured, reaching up to rub his optics. "Night, Uncle Prowl."

Uncle Prowl... he'd been called by many names and titles in his functioning time, but that was a new one. And to be honest, he wasn't so sure how well he liked it. But he would accept it for now.

Movement caught his optic, and he glanced up to see Jazz standing in the doorway, a huge grin plastered on his faceplate.

"D'awwww," Jazz whispered. "He likes ya."

Prowl narrowed his optics and gave Prowl his iciest glower. "Tell anyone, or attempt to use this as blackmail, and I swear I'll make you regret it."

"Gotcha." Jazz scooted into the room, letting the door shut behind him, and sat down on the bed. "Want me t' take 'im? Or ya good?"

"I would rather not disturb him if he's comfortable," Prowl replied. "Wait for him to wake up on his own."

Jazz chuckled. "So Ol' Ice-Spark's softened an' become Uncle Prowl, eh?"

Prowl scowled. "Jazz," he growled warningly.

"A'right, a'right, fine," Jazz replied, though his grin never faded. "Won't tell a soul."

Prowl nodded, and he leaned back and offlined his own optics. The three of them remained like that for the rest of the day, Metronix drowsing, Prowl lulled into a peaceful stupor by the sparkling's even venting, and Jazz just watching with a smile.

* * *

><p>"And take it easy for the next few days!" Ratchet barked at Prime's back as the Autobot leader limped out of the medbay. "I mean it! Don't make me weld your aft to the berth, because I will! Learn to delegate things for once!"<p>

"Yes, Ratchet," Prime sighed.

"And I expect you to come back every day for checkups until I say otherwise," Ratchet went on. "Unless you want me to send Swoop to drag you in."

"Honestly, Ratchet," Prime groaned, turning to face the medic. "I'm not fragile. I will live, you know."

Ratchet just gave him a stern look. "Yes, you will live. You've got a remarkable ability to cheat death. But we honestly came pretty fraggin' close to losing you in there. And I'd rather not see you survive an encounter with Devastator, only to shut down from neglecting to follow your medic's direct orders. Do you understand me?"

Prime nodded. "Perfectly. Am I free to go now?"

"Get out of here," Ratchet replied, gesturing down the hall. "Metronix is with Jazz; I'd check on him if I were you. He was worried sick about you."

Prime nodded and made his way down the hall, walking a little slower than normal. He still felt rather sore and tired, though seeing as a point-blank blast from Devastator had ripped his chest open and he'd just spent hours on an operating table, that was only to be expected. He knew he was lucky - had he been any closer, or had Devastator opted to step on him rather than fire, and he wouldn't have lived to see the medbay.

He disliked being told to take it easy - there was always so much to do even when there wasn't a battle going on, and while he knew he could easily delegate some of his duties to other mechs, he felt more comfortable handling many of those duties himself. But like it or not, the medic had a point. The Autobots needed him functioning at the best of his abilities, not malfunctioning or worse because he'd pushed himself too hard after a recent injury.

And Metronix needed him too. If anything were to happen to him, Primus knew what would happen to the sparkling in turn.

He reached Jazz's quarters and knocked lightly. The door slid open just enough for the Porsche to poke his head out, and upon spotting Prime he gave a sly grin.

"Here for th' lil' guy?" he whispered.

Prime nodded. "Is he recharging?"

"Yeah... told 'im I'd wake 'im up when you were up, but don' know if I got th' spark to do it." He laughed softly. "You wanna do it?"

"I'll take him off your hands," Prime replied. "How is he doing? I hope he wasn't a bother."

"Nah, he wasn't a problem," Jazz assured him. "Worried sick 'bout his daddy, but who can blame 'im?" He stepped back. "Come in... but get a picture of this 'fore ya wake 'im."

Prime stepped into the room... and couldn't suppress a chuckle. Prowl sat at Jazz's desk, deeply in recharge himself and with one arm draped loosely over the sleeping sparkling in his lap. Metronix was using the tactician's chest-bumper as a pillow, drowsing contentedly and hugging Spotty close. If Sideswipe were here, he would be snapping blackmail pictures of this.

"I think he's softened up a bit," Prime murmured.

"Just a bit, but that's good," Jazz replied. "Hate to wake 'em up..."

"But you made Metronix a promise, and we'd best keep it," Prime told him, and he bent down and carefully removed the sparkling from Prowl's arms. Prowl shifted a bit before dropping off again, but Metronix woke up right away.

"Daddy!" He threw his arms around Prime's neck and squeezed tightly, nuzzling against his chest. "You're okay!"

"I'm okay, little one," Prime assured him, patting his back gently. "Ratchet took good care of me, don't worry."

"You scared me, Daddy," Metronix whined, sounding so reproachful that Jazz had to struggle to keep from laughing. "Don't scare me! Don't get hurt 'gain!"

"I'll do my best not to, Metronix," Prime vowed. "C'mon... let's get you to your own bed."

"Wanna sleep with you tonight!"

_You sleep with me every night no matter where I lay you down for recharge, _Prime thought amusedly, but he didn't say that aloud. "Just for tonight," he told him. "Jazz, thank you. And give Prowl my thanks when he wakes up."

Jazz nodded. "Can do."

Prime turned and left the room, heading for his own quarters. Part of him was glad that Prowl had thawed slightly toward Metronix, and that the sparkling had another ally in the base. But part of him couldn't help but worry over the promise he'd made to Metronix. Father or not, he was still a military commander, and he couldn't simply abandon his duties as the Autobot leader even as a new parent. And he feared it was only a matter of time before this scenario repeated himself.

He would do the best he could, though. That seemed to be much of what being a parent was about - doing the best one could do with what they knew. He could only hope it would be enough.


	9. Chapter 9

Red Alert's gaze moved from the monitor screen to Optimus Prime. "Well?"

Prime forced himself to answer in an even tone. "Well what, Red Alert?"

"I'm sure you have some sort of explanation for this," the security officer said shortly.

"You're more familiar with the quirks of our base's security systems than I am," Prime replied. "I don't know how you expect me to know what caused this sort of malfunction."

"I just find it awfully suspicious, is all," Red Alert replied. "Suspicious that every time that sparkling's been left by himself for the past week or so, there's been a rather convenient camera glitch."

"Are you accusing Optimus of sabotaging our base's security?" Ratchet demanded, narrowing his optics.

"I'm only suggesting that Prime might know something about this," Red Alert replied. "Seeing as he and Metronix are practically attached at the hip."

Ratchet scowled darkly, and the other officers present exchanged worried looks. They had answered Red Alert's summons to the control room expecting to learn about some sort of security breach. There had been a breach, all right – but not one any of them had expected. They had all listened in shock as the security officer had shown them how, at times when Metronix had been left by himself or managed to sneak away from his caretakers for a minute, the cameras in that area had quit working. Sometimes they came back online after a few minutes, but more often they remained offline until Red Alert or Grapple could fix them. Red Alert had even shown them a power cable he'd collected from one of the damaged cams, which someone had severed quite cleanly.

"Someone wants to hide something regarding the sparkling from us," Prowl noted.

"Thank ya, Cap'n Obvious," Ironhide grumbled.

Jazz shrugged. "Ain't th' first time we've had t' deal with this. Soundie's cassettes like to sneak in an' trash our cameras so we don't catch 'em doin' mischief. Maybe one of them's t' blame."

"You think Soundwave could be attempting to capture Metronix?" asked Prime, dread building in his fuel tank.

"Could be," Jazz replied. "That or just collectin' info. He's Megatron's number two – makes sense that he'd wanna keep an optic on 'im even in this state."

"Or maybe the problem is closer to home," Red Alert insisted. "Maybe someone wants to hide information regarding the sparkling…"

"Red Alert, think of what you're doing!" Ratchet snapped. "Are you prepared to accuse Optimus Prime of treason against the Autobots?"

"Just because he's the Prime doesn't mean he's infallible," Red Alert replied. "And no, not deliberate treason… but what if Metronix started showing signs of turning back into Megatron? And what if Prime wanted to hide that fact from us? It makes sense that he'd tamper with the security cameras to protect the sparkling."

Prime clenched his fists, anger searing through his chassis at the accusation. "I would sooner tear out my spark with my bare hands than cause harm to the Autobots."

Prowl gave Prime an odd look, as if not quite believing him. "Under normal circumstances, no… but mechs have been known to do strange things to protect those they care about."

"Aw, c'mon, Prowl!" Jazz protested. "This is Prime we're talkin' 'bout! He's always been straight with us. If anythin' were goin' screwy with Metronix, he'd let us know."

"Would he?" Ironhide cut in, a look of disgust on his face. "Maybe at th' beginnin' of this whole mess he would've… but I'm not so sure anymore."

All optics were on the old warrior now. Prime's first instinct was to order Ironhide to stay quiet, but he held his vocalizer with great effort. He'd known Ironhide didn't like Metronix and still considered him dangerous, but to know one of his closest friends no longer trusted him because of the sparkling left his internals feeling as if they were encased in ice.

"Don't tell me you're buying into this nonsense too, Ironhide," Ratchet barked. "Yes, Prime's fond of the sparkling, but I hardly think he would endanger the Autobot cause for Metronix's sake."

"Oh yeah?" Ironhide retorted. "Megatron's got Prime wrapped 'round his finger! Don't tell me y'all ain't seen it! Nonsense, y' call it, Ratch… but I've been watchin' that lil' scraplet, and it ain't nonsense that he's got half th' 'Bots fussin' over 'im like he's some kinda pet. It ain't nonsense that Prime's jumpin' t' his defense whenever anyone so much as looks at 'im funny. An' yeah… yeah, I think Prime would be tryin' t' hide th' evidence if he started turnin' back inta Megatron. 'Cause he's too wrapped up in playin' Daddy t' worry about th' safety of th' Autobots!"

Prime just stared at Ironhide, too shocked and angry to formulate a response. Prowl, sensing his anger, seized that moment of silence to step into the conversation.

"Some of what you say has merit, Ironhide," he said calmly. "Yes, Prime has become attached to the sparkling. Yes, his opinions are slightly biased because of that attachment. And yes, I agree that he needs to be extremely careful that he doesn't neglect his duties as Prime because of Metronix. But suggesting that he would stoop so low as to tamper with our security system to protect him is illogical to the point of ridiculousness." He turned to Red Alert. "Bring up the schematics of the Ark, and point out where the damaged cameras have been found."

Red Alert complied, activating a hologram that showed a cross-section of the Ark. Several points on the holo glowed red, indicating the locations of the cams in question. Prowl studied the holo for a long moment, faceplates set in a look of concentration.

"Well?" Ratchet demanded. "Find what you were looking for?"

Prowl nodded. "All the cameras that have suffered sabotage have one thing in common – they're easily accessible through the ventilation system." He touched a control, and the ventilation shafts glowed yellow. "And judging by the number of times Sideswipe has attempted to sneak about the base through the vents and gotten his sorry chassis stuck, I would say it's safe to assume that Optimus Prime, being larger than Sideswipe, couldn't be tampering with the cameras in that manner. The most logical answer is that yes, we have a cassette infestation."

"Prime could be havin' one o' Blaster's cassettes-" Ironhide began, determined to have his say.

"Primus almighty!" Jazz barked, throwing his hands up in frustration. "You're outta your processor, 'Hide! Prime ain't doin' it! An' neither are Blaster's cassettes!"

"How do YOU know?" Ironhide demanded. "Ya been keepin' tabs on th' cassettes twenty-four-seven?"

"No, but I know Blaster, an' he wouldn't let his cassettes do anythin' dirty for anyone, even Prime," Jazz countered, clenching his jaw in rare anger. "For Pit's sake, quit lookin' for reasons t' pin this on Prime!"

"Am I th' only one in this base NOT so stuck on the sparklin' that I can't see th' truth?" Ironhide retorted. "He's Megatron, an' if he's showin' any inclination t' grow up an' get his memory back-"

"Enough!" Prime shouted, putting all his anger into that one word. The room went dead silent, and every mech fixed their optics on him in surprise. Ironhide's mouth still hung open, as if he were prepared to launch into a tirade at the first opportunity, but Prime pressed on before he could do so.

"Enough out of all of you," Prime snapped, finally giving in to his frustration and anger. "I am appalled that any of you would think that I would jeopardize the Autobot cause for any reason! I am the Prime, and I am fully aware of my duties and responsibilities toward the Autobots, toward Cybertron, and toward making our homeworld safe again. I know what Megatron was capable of and what atrocities he committed against our world and others… perhaps better than anyone else here. Believe me, if I thought for a moment that Metronix would return to his old self, I would take immediate action."

Ironhide snorted in disbelief. Ratchet jabbed an elbow into his side to shut him up.

"But as the Prime, I am not only committed to serving the Autobots, but to protecting all sentient life. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings… not simply the Autobots, but anything capable of thinking and feeling for themselves. And that includes Metronix. Yes, he was once Megatron, but his memories of his former life are gone. Ratchet and Wheeljack have done countless scans on the sparkling, and he's shown no sign of changing back. I fully believe that Megatron is gone for good, and that Metronix will remain as he is until the time comes for his adult upgrade. So even if I was capable of such treasonous acts as sabotaging our security systems, why would I feel the need to do so?"

Jazz nodded slowly, a slow smile crossing his faceplate in agreement. Ironhide just glared, while Ratchet relaxed slightly at Prime's words. Red Alert wore a look of dawning comprehension, as if Prime's words had only just occurred to him. Prowl looked somewhat doubtful, but he held his vocalizer.

"If any of you still has doubts about Metronix, bring them to me privately. Until then… if I hear another baseless accusation from anyone, there will be consequences. Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," Red Alert replied, sounding stung. "But there remains the fact that sabotage is happening – not saying it's you, of course. What are we going to do about it?"

"We're going to take the necessary action against it, of course," Prowl replied. "I want all cameras moved to locations where they can't be accessed via the ventilation shafts, and grates within the ducts themselves to restrict an intruder's movements without blocking air flow. I know, it won't stop a determined cassette, but it will at least slow them down. And from now on I want regular scanner sweeps of the ventilation system. If a cassette is responsible for this, we'll catch them."

Red Alert actually smiled at the order. "What I've been wanting for cycles, Prowl sir! Thank Primus, someone's finally taking my suggestions seriously!"

Prowl only nodded at the security officer before turning to Prime. "And you, Prime… I suggest you talk to Metronix. If something is happening with him during these security glitches, it's quite probable that he would know."

Prime sighed, a little annoyed that he and Metronix weren't being let completely off the hook, but nodded. This whole situation concerned the sparkling's safety as well as the base's security, and if something was happening to him during those camera glitches, he had to find out what it was. It could be harmless… but he couldn't take chances either.

"I will," he promised.

Prowl nodded. "Everyone's dismissed."

Ironhide gave a wordless growl of exasperation and stormed out. Ratched followed after him with a groan of dismay at the red mech's antics, while Jazz moved to Red Alert's side to look over the Ark schematics with him. Once he was sure the others were either gone or occupied, Prowl turned back to Prime and spoke in a low voice.

"I mean it, Prime," he said urgently. "We have to know what's going on with Metronix. The fact that this only happens when Metronix is alone is very worrying. Talk to him and get to the bottom of this… and report it to the officers."

"I fully intend to," Prime assured him.

"Optimus… I _mean _it," Prowl insisted. "Even if it's bad news, you have to let us know."

The accusation in his second-in-command's tone stung. "You know I would never keep secrets from the Autobots."

Prowl raised an optic ridge. "Not long ago you were ready to withhold information from the Autobot Council to protect Metronix. Given that evidence, I do think it is possible that you would keep secrets from your officers if you thought it would protect the sparkling."

If his earlier accusation stung, those words actually cut into his spark. Had he really lost the trust of his officers so quickly? Was his attachment to Metronix alienating him from his own troops? Prowl wasn't given to mincing words, so his blunt assessment of the situation was rather harsh… but it was honest, and Prime knew it only hurt because it was the truth.

"I will, Prowl," he replied, more quietly than he'd intended. "I promise you that. From here on out, no more secrets."

Prowl's gaze didn't soften. "Even if it means possible action against Metronix?"

Prime had to force himself to say his next words. "Yes. But promise me one thing, Prowl. If the officers decide to take action against him… be gentle. Megatron or not, he is still a sparkling."

The ensuing silence was agony for Prime… and Prowl's eventual answer a relief. "I will do what I can, Prime. If it's necessary to take action, I will ensure it's not needlessly cruel. I can't promise anything more than that."

Prime sighed in relief. "Thank you."

Prowl nodded. "Go talk to him. The sooner we can get to the bottom of this, the better."

Prime's thoughts were a whirl as he left the control room, heading for the rec room at a brisk pace. Whatever was happening, he hoped to Primus it was simply Soundwave's cassettes making mischief, and not someone trying to conceal something more sinister. He wanted this situation resolved without harm to either the Autobots or Metronix. The real question, the one he worried over the most, would be whether he got what he wanted in the end.

* * *

><p>If Prime knew where Metronix was at that exact moment – not in the rec room with Hound like he was supposed to be, but hiding in a supply closet with Ravage for company – he would have quickly realized he had far more to worry about than possible Autobot action against the sparkling.<p>

"There's a guy that can teleport?" Metronix asked, optics bright with awe. "That's so cool!"

_Skywarp isn't exactly known for using his powers for useful purposes, _Ravage replied, looking up from grooming a paw. _Still, one can't deny that it's a powerful ability._

"Your friends sound awesome," he said enviously. "I wish I was that cool."

_Don't put yourself down, little one, _Ravage advised. _You have the potential to be just as… cool… as my comrades, if you but put your CPU to it._

Metronix nodded eagerly, then looked down at the lightboard picture he was assembling. He had been trying to create a picture of Soundwave based on Ravage's descriptions of him, but all he'd managed to come up with was a blue-and-white blob with stumpy arms and legs. He sighed and began pulling out the pegs. Maybe he could talk Ravage into letting him see Soundwave for himself sometime, so he could get a better idea of what he looked like.

Then again, Metronix wished he could meet all of Ravage's friends. They all sounded so awesome! Thundercracker, with his ability to make sonic booms and his superior flying skills… Skywarp, the teleporter with a crazy sense of humor… Soundwave, telepathic and a master of sound attacks… the Constructicons, expert builders and with the ability to merge into a huge mech called Devastator… they all sounded so cool! Sure, there were Autobots with cool abilities, like the Dinobots and Mirage and Hound, but he never saw them actually do anything with them. If only he could see these guys for himself.

"Why don't your friends ever come here?" asked Metronix. "Or does Daddy not like them too?"

_Your father is… uncomfortable with our abilities, _Ravage explained. _We are stronger than Autobots, with better abilities, and for that reason he doesn't trust us. Maybe he's jealous. Or maybe he simply fears that with us around, the Autobots would choose to follow us instead of him. I really don't know; I'm not inside his CPU. But the fact remains that so long as you live here, I cannot show them to you._

"Awww," Metronix whined. "Not fair."

Ravage cocked his head to one side. _There is a way, though. I cannot bring my friends here… but you could come with me to meet them._

Metronix's optics went wide. "Really?"

_Really. It's something of a long journey, but we could make it easily. All you'd have to do is follow me out. I'd make sure we didn't get caught, and then I could take you to our hideout. And you would finally get to see Soundwave and the others up close. Wouldn't that be fun?_

"Yeah!" he exclaimed, grinning brightly. But then a thought occurred to him, and his grin faded away. "But if I go, Daddy'll get worried."

Ravage pinned his ears back. _And if he does worry? It's not like you'd be leaving forever, right? We could visit my friends and then come right back._

"But I might get in trouble. I'm not supposed to go off by myself. I could get in trouble right now!"

_But you're not by yourself – you're with me. Your father just worries that something bad might happen to you if you wander off. But I would protect you. _His optics seemed to get larger, as if he were trying to pull an innocent face. _You can trust me, Metronix, right?_

Metronix nodded, but he still had his doubts. He hadn't been outside the base except for a few trips to the landing platform since… well, since Daddy had found him out in the forest. He couldn't remember anything but a few fragments before that, but what little he did remember – frightening images of explosions and flames, screams, and a sense of terrifying evil – didn't exactly make him want to leave the security of the Ark anytime soon. And more than anything, he didn't want to make Daddy upset.

"I don't wanna go right now," he said at last. "Maybe later."

Ravage slumped a bit, optics narrowing, but he recovered from his disappointment quickly. _Perhaps another time, then. When you're ready, not before. _He nudged Spotty toward Metronix with his nose. _I have to go. As always, it was pleasant visiting with you._

"See you tomorrow?"

_If I can find the time. Be good, Metronix. _And he went to the open ventilation grate and vanished.

Metronix sighed and picked up Spotty and the lightboard, tucking them both under one arm. He wished he could bring Ravage out in the open and play with him. He thought the Dinobots might like him, and maybe Steeljaw would like having a playmate. But Ravage insisted they stay hidden, saying that Daddy would be mad if he ever found out. Metronix didn't understand why Daddy would be so against Ravage staying at the base – he was harmless, and he kept Metronix company.

He ducked out of the closet and peered up and down the hall before hurrying back toward the rec room. Hound would realize he was gone by now, and probably be looking for him. The green mech was pretty easygoing and hard to get angry, but he didn't want to push his luck.

He scooted around a corner, then squeaked in fright and ducked back behind the corner as two mechs suddenly emerged from a set of heavy doors. He knew these mechs, and while the one had never done anything to hurt Metronix, he was still grouchy enough that he didn't want anything to do with him. The other was nice enough, he supposed, but so funny-looking that Metronix had a hard time not giggling whenever he saw him.

"I'm tellin' ya, those 'Cons have been far too quiet for my liking," Brawn complained, fiddling with something on his rifle as they walked on by. "They're up to no good."

"And that's different how?" gurgled Seaspray, looking up from the harpoon gun he was carrying.

"Well, up to something worse than they usually are," Brawn amended. "Wish something would happen soon. It would at least be more interesting than these pointless weapons drills we have to go through."

"I'd prefer it stayed quiet," Seaspray replied. "It's nice getting a break from the fighting."

"I'm tellin' ya, Seaspray, it's the calm before the storm…"

Metronix waited until their voices had faded before peering around the corner again. No one else was coming out of that room… but the doors were still open. Brawn and Seaspray had been so caught up in their conversation that they'd forgotten to shut them.

A sudden, irresistible urge to look seized Metronix, and all thought of getting back to Hound fled his CPU. He crept quietly to the doors and peered inside, wondering what he might find. He'd seen these doors before, but they were always locked. What was so secret in here? He'd been warned not to go inside rooms without asking, but curiosity overrode any warnings.

"Wow," he whispered. The room was packed with weapons – guns and rifles of every shape and size, swords and axes and knives in just as wide a variety as the guns, missiles for those mechs outfitted to fire them, and other objects Metronix couldn't identify but that still looked impressive to his young optics. Most of the weaponry was neatly arranged in racks along the walls, though a few guns were lying on a bench in the center of the room, some in pieces. And a thick smell of smoke and oil hung in the air, tickling something in the very back of his CPU as if stirring a memory…

He shook his head and stepped into the room, optics wide. He had seen most of the adults carrying guns at one point or another, but Daddy had always admonished him not to play with them, and he was never allowed a toy one for himself. Naturally, the forbidden nature of these objects only made them all the more alluring to him. He just wanted to touch one… just once, to see what it was like. It wasn't going to jump up and bite him, was it?

A large rifle, almost big enough to be a cannon, sat in a rack on one wall, and Metronix recognized it as Daddy's – he had kept it in their room for a short time before Red Alert had demanded it be moved. He decided that one was as good as any to hold, and was making his way toward it when something else caught his optic.

"Oooooh…" He stopped in his tracks, awestruck. A large black cannon was tucked into one corner of the room, partially hidden behind a stack of ammo boxes. It didn't look nearly as new or shiny as Daddy's rifle – it was scratched and dented, and dried mud still clung to the barrel. But the sheer size of it was impressive enough that he left the rifle alone and headed over to investigate it. It was almost big enough for Ravage to crawl into!

He grabbed the barrel of the cannon and tried tugging it out into the open. It was extremely heavy, and he was only able to scoot it a few feet before giving up. He figured he could get a good look at it right here. He walked around the cannon, poking and studying every detail, even sticking his head into the barrel to see if there was anything interesting inside.

Idly he wondered why he hadn't seen anyone carrying this weapon. Was it too big for them? It was so huge only Grimlock, Skyfire, and possibly Daddy could use it without falling over. But still, it looked awesome and powerful enough that he didn't understand why they didn't take it with them when they fought. If he was allowed outside to fight with the grownups, he would have taken it in a sparkbeat! He could just imagine himself carrying it… or maybe clipping it to his arm and carrying it that way, marching into battle and kicking serious aft…

"Whoa." He shook his head again, a little unsettled by how quickly that image had sprung to his CPU. It was almost as if the memory of him in battle, taller and stronger and with this cannon fixed to his arm, was already there, and just waiting for this moment to show up. And now that it was in his memory banks for good, he wasn't sure how well he liked it.

He tried to push it out of his memory banks and returned to his study of the cannon. He wondered if he could make it go off. There didn't seem to be a trigger of any kind. But there was a button of sorts on the side… maybe if he were to push it…

"There you are!" Hound exclaimed, stepping into the doorway at that moment. "I've been looking all over for you, little guy. You know better than to run-" His voice cut off mid-sentence, and his optics went wide with horror. "Metronix, don't touch that-"

His warning came an instant too late. Metronix's hand had landed on the firing stud, and before the scout's warning could sink in he'd pressed it.

* * *

><p>Ironhide had been expecting this moment from the very beginning, so he wasn't particularly surprised when alarms suddenly went off throughout the base.<p>

_Shots fired in the armory! _came Hound's cry over the radio. _Shot's fired! I'm hit!_

Dread flooded Ironhide's spark with a sudden chill, and he pulled his gun and charged for the armory. Slag it all, he'd told everyone this had been coming! He knew Hound had been in charge of watching Metronix today while Prime was busy, though why the scout had been stupid enough to take him into the armory was anyone's guess. And while Hound hadn't identified the shooter, Ironhide knew full well only one thing could have happened – Megatron had returned to his normal self, or at least regained his memory, and had attacked the first Autobot he had seen.

Everyone had chosen to ignore his warnings, and now they were paying the price. Ironhide only hoped he could get there in time to stop Megatron from killing Hound, and that he would be able to do what needed to be done.

His worst fears were realized as he burst into the armory. Hound lay near the door, clutching his side and scrambling to get to his feet even as smoke and fluids poured from his ragged wound. Brawn and Seaspray were doing their best to help, Seaspray grabbing Hound by the arm and tugging him toward the door while Brawn tried to get close enough to the sparkling to knock the cannon away from him. Blasts of plasma fire kept erupting from the weapon, driving Brawn back and making him curse virulently at every near miss.

It was Megatron's cannon, Ironhide realized… and Metronix clutched it tightly, despite the weapon being so big he couldn't even wrap his arms all the way around it. He wore a look of utter terror on his faceplate, and every blast of the cannon made him scream piercingly.

"Shut it off, kid!" Brawn shouted. "For the love of Primus, turn the blasted thing off!"

"I can't!" Metronix cried. "It's stuck on!"

"He must have jammed the firing stud!" Hound called out, wincing as he fell to his knees.

Ironhide gave a snarl of exasperation and stormed toward the sparkling. Jammed the firing stud? More likely he had the weapon on automatic fire. Everyone was still so determined to see Metronix as an innocent that they'd believe anything. Slag, they'd probably call it an accident if he cut their throats in cold oil. If anything was to be done to stop the rampage, it was up to him.

Metronix screamed in mingled pain and fear as Ironhide swatted him away from the weapon. Disregarding him for the moment, Ironhide raised his foot and stomped on the cannon. There was a flash and a horrific crackle of energy as the power cells shattered at the blow, then the constant barrage of fire cut off. He stomped on it twice more for good measure, denting the barrel into a V-shape and ensuring it could never be fired again.

Once he was sure Megatron's cannon was out of commission he looked up. The armory was unexpectedly full of mechs and noise at the moment. Ratchet had ducked in during the chaos and was yelling at Hound to sit down and stay down so he could look over his injuries. Brawn was bellowing at Seaspray, insisting that the boat-former had left the door open, while Seaspray shouted back that it had to have been Brawn who neglected to lock up after they'd left. Everyone was ignoring the sparkling completely, never thinking that he could easily grab another weapon and continue where he'd left off.

It was up to Ironhide, it looked like, to ensure this didn't happen again.

Metronix huddled in the far corner of the armory, keening and venting quickly in panic. Scratches and dents marred his chestplate where Ironhide had struck him, and his optics were wild with terror like those of a cornered animal. For a moment, Ironhide thought that perhaps this truly had been an accident, and that the sparkling was just as terrified at what he'd done as everyone else…

He shook his head, clenching his jaw in a grim scowl. No time to get soft-sparked. Metronix had almost killed Hound, and if Ironhide hadn't stopped him there was no telling how many mechs he would have slaughtered before everyone had finally woken up to the fact that they had the Great Slagmaker in their midst.

He closed the gap between himself and Metronix, and as the sparkling watched in terror he raised his gun, placing the muzzle to the silver mech's helm.

* * *

><p>When Optimus entered the rec room and found no trace of Hound and Metronix, he was concerned but not yet alarmed. It would be like Hound to take the sparkling outside for a walk and try to teach him to appreciate nature. Granted, the scout was usually good about radioing Prime and asking permission for those sorts of things, but Prime was willing to make an allowance for a slip of the memory.<p>

Before he could ping Hound and ask where he and the sparkling were, though, the alarms sounded… and Hound's frantic voice over the radio came as a blow to the fuel tanks.

_Oh no… Metronix, please don't be hurt! _He took off at a dead run, startling Silverbolt when he rounded a corner too suddenly and sending a cluster of minibots scattering out of his path. Decepticons must have infiltrated the base and gotten into the armory, and Hound must have taken fire trying to protect the sparkling. That had to be it… and as terrible as it seemed, he prayed that was the case. He wouldn't consider that the unthinkable had occurred, and Metronix had reverted to Megatron…

He entered the armory to find the room in chaos… and a sight that nearly made his fuel pump stop. Ironhide stood over Metronix, a gun held to the trembling sparkling's helm, a cold glint to his optics that bespoke his intentions all too well.

"IRONHIDE!"

He didn't remember leaping across the room, nor did he remember the impact. One moment he was standing in the doorway, staring in horror, and the next he was on the floor, one knee planted in the red warrior's back and his arms clamping the mech's neck in a headlock. The gun skittered across the floor to come to rest at a stunned Seaspray's feet.

"What in the Pit…" Ratchet got out before his voice failed him.

"Gerroff!" Ironhide roared, thrashing to break free. "Get the frag offa me!"

"Seaspray, get Prowl!" Prime barked. "Tell him to bring cuffs, possibly other restraints, and a transformation lock!" He glanced up to see the minibot staring at him in utter shock. "Now!"

"Uh… yes sir!" Seaspray hurried off.

Metronix finally seemed to snap out of his petrified state, and he curled up in a ball, crying loudly. Prime desperately wanted to go over to him and hug him tightly, to assure him that everything would be all right, but he didn't dare let go of the mech in his grip. Instead he tightened his hold, eliciting a curse from the red warrior.

"Ironhide, you have precisely thirty astroseconds to explain what in the Pit you were doing, and you had better hope to Primus that it's enough to convince me not to deactivate you here and now!" he snarled, the sheer rage in his voice making every mech in the room flinch.

"I was doin' what shoulda been done t' start with!" Ironhide snapped. "Doin' what had t' be done t' protect th' Autobots! 'Cause no one else would!"

"You were going to shoot an innocent sparkling!" Prime growled.

"I was takin' down a killer!" Ironhide retorted. "He opened fire on Autobots, Prime! He shot Hound and woulda shot others if I hadn't stopped 'im! I was makin' sure it wouldn't happen again!"

"It was an accident," Hound protested, raising his hand. "He wandered off, and I found him in the armory playing with a weapon. Before I could stop him he got it to go off, and the firing stud jammed. It's my own fault, sir…"

"Just as much Seaspray's fault as anyone's," Brawn cut in. "He left the door open after we came in to grab our weapons." He hesitated. "Or maybe I did… I don't remember…"

"That ain't th' problem!" Ironhide insisted. "Are y'all too blind t' see? Megatron remembered which weapon was his, and he used it t' shoot Autobots! Ya wanted proof that he was turnin' back inta Megatron? There's yer proof! Wake up an' smell th' high grade already-"

"_That – is – ENOUGH!" _Prime roared.

Prowl entered the room at that moment, followed closely by Jazz. Jazz immediately pushed past the Datsun and rushed to the corner, scooping up Metronix and doing his best to console the terrified sparkling. Prowl took a moment to study everything – the wounded scout in the corner, the ruined cannon, the crying sparkling, and the mech currently in Prime's grip. Prime could almost see him piecing together what had happened in his CPU, and he desperately hoped Prowl wouldn't draw the wrong conclusion altogether.

"You want me to take Ironhide to the brig?" Prowl asked, optics narrowing as they rested on the Nissan.

"Yes," Prime replied, his voice quieter but no less hard. "Lock him in his robot mode and place him in solitary confinement. We'll decide what to do with him once Hound is stabilized and we're sure no harm has come to Metronix."

"Yes sir."

"Y'all're makin' a huge mistake!" Ironhide bellowed, fighting to break free even as Prowl closed the energy cuffs around his wrists. "That sparklin'll be th' death of us! He's done it once, he'll do it again! An' next time we won't get off so lightly!"

"Save it for the disciplinary hearing," Prowl said coldly, dragging him out of the armory.

Once Prowl and Ironhide had gone, Prime immediately turned to Jazz, who was still holding Metronix and murmuring soothing words in his audial. Metronix was still sobbing and shaking, but he no longer seemed hysterical.

"Is he…" began Prime.

"Not hurt," Jazz replied, "but he feels pretty overheated. Might wanna have a medic look 'im over."

"I'll do it," Ratchet volunteered. "Let me get Hound to the medbay first and have First Aid take over his repairs. For now, though… I think he needs his father."

Jazz nodded, and carefully transferred the sparkling to Prime's arms. Prime hushed him gently and rubbed his back, letting him curl up against him and cry himself out. He winced a bit at how warm Metronix felt, and a flash of anger seared through him when he saw the dents in his chestplate and realized what Ironhide must have done to him before drawing his gun. How anyone could be this cruel to a sparkling, he couldn't begin to fathom.

"D-Daddy…" sobbed Metronix. "Don't let go… don't leave…"

"I won't," he murmured. "I promise, little one. I'm here to protect you."

Metronix seemed to take comfort in that fact, and though his grip on Prime didn't relax, he finally stopped shaking. Prime continued to talk soothingly to him as he carried him out of the armory and toward the medbay. Inside, though, his rage simmered. If Metronix took any permanent harm from this experience, physical or mental, he would ensure Ironhide paid for it.


	10. Chapter 10

It took Prime well an hour to get Metronix calmed down enough to talk after his encounter in the armory. Not that he could blame the sparkling. He had probably just gone in to explore, and hadn't expected the gun he was playing with to get stuck on. Or for someone easily four or five times his size to strike him and hold a gun to his head. Just thinking about that last part made Prime's spark roil in anger, and he had to struggle to calm himself down and focus on soothing the sparkling.

"There now," he said gently, rubbing Metronix's back. "You're safe here. It's going to be okay."

Metronix sniffed and buried his face in Prime's neck cables. He had refused to let go of Prime ever since the incident, clinging to him like a space barnacle. Even when Prime had offered him his plush leopard, he had only loosened his grip enough to grab the toy before hugging back onto the Autobot leader. Spotty was now squashed between Prime and Metronix, only its head poking out from under Metronix's chest and its glassy eyes seeming to fix Prime with a pleading expression.

"Are you hurt, Metronix?" Prime asked once he was sure the sparkling was through crying.

He shook his head. "I-Ironhide… hit me… but it doesn't hurt anymore."

Prime nodded, forcing himself to keep his voice level. "When you're ready, we'll go to Ratchet and he can fix the dents."

Metronix pulled away and fixed Prime with a sparkbroken look. "Why'd Ironhide… why'd he do that? I didn't mean to do anything… I was just lookin'…"

"Ironhide overreacted," Prime replied. "He thought that because you had turned the weapon on, you were dangerous. He's going to be dealt with. I promise he will not hurt you again."

Metronix nodded, but he still looked confused. "Why doesn't he like me?"

Prime hesitated, not sure how to answer that. He had promised Prowl there would be no more keeping of secrets, but at the same time, was the sparkling really ready to hear that he had once been the Autobots' greatest enemy? If anything, wouldn't the knowledge only terrify him even more? Or worse, make him think that because he had once been Megatron, he had no choice but to grow up to be Megatron again?

In the end, he decided that Metronix's safety took precedence. "There is a mech the Autobots used to fight – an evil and powerful mech named Megatron. You look a lot like him, and it reminds Ironhide of some of the terrible things he's seen Megatron do."

"But I didn't do them," Metronix protested. "I'm not Megatron. So why's he hate me?"

Prime searched his CPU for an answer. "Because he's unable to separate you from Megatron in his mind. The resemblance is very close, and I'm afraid he's unable to see past it."

Metronix laid his head back down on Prime's shoulder, and he went quiet for a few minutes. Prime continued to hold him, letting his presence soothe the sparkling as much as possible.

"When I grow up, I wanna be a fighter," Metronix said abruptly. "An' I wanna help fight Megatron. Then Ironhide'll see I'm not Megatron!"

Despite all that had happened today, Prime couldn't hold back a laugh. "All in good time, Metronix. You have a long way to go before you're ready for an adult upgrade. And Megatron was killed in battle not too long ago."

"Oh." Metronix sounded oddly disappointed at that. "Did you fight him, Daddy?"

Prime nodded. "I did."

"Did you kill him?"

Prime wondered how to answer that. "I fired the shot that brought him down," he finally decided on.

Metronix squeezed him tightly. "You're awesome. I wanna be awesome like you."

"Killing another mech does not make one awesome, little one. Life is precious, and it should only be taken when absolutely necessary. Remember that." He patted his back, then carefully pulled him away just enough to look him in the optics. "There's something else we need to discuss, Metronix… something very important."

"What, Daddy?"

"Metronix… sometimes when Daddy or your caretakers aren't watching, you sneak off by yourself. What are you doing when you're alone, and what happens?"

Metronix opened his mouth to answer, then shut it, sudden fear flaring in his optics.

"You can tell me, Metronix," Prime urged, trying to ignore the apprehension growing in the pit of his fuel tank. If Metronix was afraid to tell him, then perhaps something WAS happening during those times the cameras glitched.

"I… I promised I wouldn't tell," Metronix said finally.

That only worried Prime all the more. "Promised who?"

"I-it's a secret." He ducked his head against Prime's chest. "I don't wanna get anyone in trouble."

"Metronix, you're not in trouble. And if someone is telling you to keep secrets that you don't feel comfortable with, then you need to tell someone. Even if they made you promise. All right?"

"O-okay."

"Now who is making you keep this a secret?"

Metronix was silent for a few moments, and Prime was about to repeat his question when he spoke up again: "Ravage."

That sent a chill through his spark. "Ravage?"

Metronix nodded. "He's a kitty, an' he comes to visit me sometimes. He's cool, Daddy, and I like him, but he said you didn't like him an' that if I ever told you 'bout him you'd kick him out of the base. But he's my friend! He's nice! I don't want him thrown out, an' I don't want you to hurt him or anything! Please don't tell me I can't see him anymore! Please?" He said that all in a rush, as if saying the name had opened the floodgate.

Prime had to sit back and process that a moment. So it was a cassette infestation after all. Ravage was paying Metronix visits, doubtless hoping to gain his trust and lure him back to the Decepticons. For a moment he wondered if Metronix finding his way into the armory had been part of Ravage's plan. Perhaps the cassette-cat had hoped that seeing Megatron's cannon would jog Metronix's memory.

"Am I in trouble, Daddy?"

"No, Metronix, you're not in trouble," he assured him. "But I'm afraid your visits with Ravage have to end."

"But Daddy!"

"No buts, Metronix. Ravage is very dangerous. He's not allowed in the base for very good reasons."

"But Daddy, he's cool! An' all his friends are cool too! I wanna see Rumble an' Frenzy an' Skywarp an' Soundwave an' Devastator an'-"

Prime cut him off. "Where did you hear all those names?"

"Ravage told me."

Prime vowed he would track down that cassette and tie his tail in a knot the next time he faced Soundwave on the battlefield. "Did Ravage tell you why he and his… friends aren't allowed in the Ark?"

"Nuh-uh. Just that you're scared of them."

"And for good reason. Metronix, Ravage and all the others he's spoken to you about are what are known as Decepticons. They are evil and dangerous, and while Ravage may seem nice to you, he always has his own reasons for doing things. The next time you meet with him, he could hurt you. And it would break my spark if anything were to happen to you."

Metronix didn't look happy at Prime's warning, and he pouted. Then something else seemed to occur to him. "Daddy… was Megatron a Desi… Despa… a what's-it-called?"

Prime nodded. "He was the leader of the Decepticons."

Metronix shivered. "An' Ravage is one too?"

Prime nodded again. "I want you to promise me, Metronix, that you will stay with an adult at all times from now on. And if you see Ravage, I want you to run and find the nearest adult, and tell them where and when you saw him. Can you do that for me?"

The sparkling looked stricken at the order, but he nodded anyhow. "'Kay."

"Thank you," Prime sighed, his spark finally lightening in relief. "I only want you to be safe, Metronix. I hope you understand that."

Metronix just nodded, and leaned against his chest again. "Love you, Daddy."

"I love you, Metronix." He made sure he had a secure grip on the sparkling before standing. "I'm going to take you to see Ratchet now. He'll fix your dents and make sure you're in good shape after your scare."

"Is Uncle Ratchet mad at me? Or Uncle Hound?"

"No, Metronix. They understand that it was an accident. I think Uncle Hound wouldn't say no to an apology, however."

"Okay."

Prime carried Metronix out of his quarters and headed for the repair bay. Once he was sure the sparkling was safely in Ratchet's hands, he would call Prowl and Jazz and have them meet him in the brig. He rather despised what they would have to do next, but they had to ensure Metronix's safety, and make sure everyone knew there would be consequences for threatening another mech for any reason. Why did the truly dirty work among the Autobots always fall on the Prime?

* * *

><p>Ironhide didn't even look up as Prowl switched off the energy bars of his cell. He sat in the corner of his cell, gaze fixed on some random spot on the floor, arms draped over his knees.<p>

"Didn't take y'all long t' decide what t' do with me, did it?" he muttered.

"We have not yet come to a decision," Prowl replied, motioning for Prime and Jazz to enter as well. Prime moved to sit across from Ironhide while Jazz positioned himself in front of the door, on the off chance that their prisoner decided to make a break for it.

"Get it over with," Ironhide griped. "This waitin' game's killin' me."

Prime ignored the bitter edge to the red mech's tone as best he could. Despite his anger at what Ironhide had done, the old wardog was still one of his oldest and closest friends. He had been among the first mechs to ally himself with the new Prime when he had come into power, and had fought by his side in countless battles, establishing himself as a bodyguard of sorts. And even though he had a tendency to want to solve every problem by rushing in with guns blazing, Prime had valued his advice, and he trusted him with his life.

That just made this whole situation all the more difficult for him. For while he had no desire to destroy his friendship with Ironhide, neither could he forget that this mech had nearly killed his adopted son. And he feared that in punishing Ironhide for his crime, he would shatter that friendship forever.

"First, I want you to explain yourself, Ironhide," he said at last. "What drove you to attack a sparkling, and to threaten his life?"

Ironhide looked up, glaring at Prime. "Are ya really that thick? I gotta explain it t' ya again?"

Prime met his gaze calmly, even as he suppressed the urge to snap back. "You've insisted time and again that you think Metronix will turn back into Megatron at any time. Yet you've heard and seen a great deal of evidence that the chances of him reverting to his original state are remote at best, and you still refuse to change your mind. What has you so convinced that he's dangerous that you were willing to stoop to Megatron's level to stop him?"

Ironhide actually flinched at that last statement, and somehow that pleased Prime. Perhaps, on some level, he did realize he'd gone too far in pulling a gun on a sparkling.

"Ya won't believe me if I tell ya," Ironhide said flatly.

"Try us," Jazz suggested mildly. "We might surprise you."

Ironhide snorted. "'Cause he's too close t' Prime, is why. 'Cause th' moment Prime laid optics on that sparklin', he fell in love. Dunno if it's th' Matrix talkin', or if he's just too soft-sparked for his own good, but he fell hopelessly in love with that sparklin' on th' spot almost. An' I don't say this often… but it scared th' scrap outta me."

That had not been the answer Prime had expected.

"I saw how attached Prime got to Metronix right off th' bat, an' I knew exactly what would happen if Megatron ever came back. Th' war would be good as lost right there."

"What's that s'posed t' mean?" demanded Jazz.

"I am not following your logic," Prowl added.

"'Cause Prime would never see 'im as Megatron again," Ironhide explained, scowling at Prowl. "He's gotten so fixated on Metronix that he'd never be able t' look at Megatron again without seein' th' sparklin' in his optics! Ya think after so long playin' Daddy to 'im, he'd be able to fight 'im?"

Now it was Prime's turn to flinch. He had never considered – had never allowed himself to consider – just what would happen were Metronix to revert to Megatron once again. Logically he knew it would mean he would have to face his old foe on the battlefield once again, but he had never seriously entertained that possibility. Not before now, that was… and even now, the prospect terrified him.

If the unthinkable happened, and the sparkling became his old self… could he truly fight him? Could he hurt him, possibly even kill him? Would he even be able to raise a gun against him and pull the trigger?

_No, _he realized, with a sick lurch of his fuel tanks. _I can't. I can no longer think of Megatron without also thinking of Metronix. To hurt Megatron would be like striking my own child, or firing on my own troops. It would kill me._

With great effort he pushed those thoughts aside. Only then did he notice Prowl gazing at him, a worried frown crossing his features. Prime had long joked that Prowl was a telepath without even realizing it, having an uncanny ability to read a mech's thought processes from his expressions and body language. Now, he wondered just how much of his thoughts Prowl had picked up. Probably a great deal, which was no comfort.

"Be that as it may," Prime said quietly, "it does not change the fact that you struck a sparkling, and intended to kill him."

Ironhide lowered his gaze to the floor. "No, it don't," he admitted sullenly.

"You realize this is a serious offense," Prime continued. "Had you struck and pulled a gun on one of the other Autobots, it would still be serious… but this was an innocent sparkling, and it compounds the matter."

"I know," Ironhide muttered. "I know I screwed up. Don't mean I'm sorry I acted. Maybe I went too far… but I was tryin' to protect a friend. I ain't sorry for that."

"While your desire to protect Optimus Prime is commendable, your actions can't be excused," Prowl informed him. "As this was your first offense, however, I believe the sentence can be lessened."

"Lessened?" Jazz repeated, visor flaring in surprise… and perhaps a bit of anger as well. It seemed Prime wasn't the only Autobot upset at Ironhide's actions.

"The usual sentence for the attempted murder of a sparkling is deactivation, Jazz," Prowl reminded him. "Are you willing to subject one of our troops to that?"

Jazz winced. "Not really…"

"Then we are in agreement," Prowl replied. "We can't afford to lose any of our troops at this point, when we're preparing to push the Decepticons off the planet for good. Nor can we afford the division among our ranks an execution would cause. In light of the situation, I think time in the brig, as well as a period of probation, will suffice."

Prime nodded in agreement. As much as Ironhide's attack had angered him, his anger was not great enough to demand his death. "Two weeks in the brig, and a year's probation," he decided. "During that time he will not be permitted to leave the Ark except for battle. Once that year is up we will review his behavior and decide if he has acted commendably enough for the probation to be lifted. Does that satisfy you?"

Prowl nodded. "That sounds acceptable."

Ironhide visibly relaxed at that. Evidently he'd been expecting the worst.

"How's th' little guy?" Jazz asked.

"Scared and a little dented, but unhurt," Prime replied. "He will recover."

"Good," Jazz sighed. "Was worried there."

"Any further discussion can be held outside the brig," Prowl informed them. "Let's go." He waved Jazz and Prime out, reactivating the bars once they had exited the cell. Prime was about to follow the other officers out when Ironhide spoke up, making him pause.

"Prime… for th' record… I'm sorry."

He turned to regard the red mech, frowning. "I thought you weren't sorry."

"Not for tryin' t' protect you an' Hound," he replied. "But… I know I hurt ya through hurtin' th' sparklin', an' I never meant to do that." He drew back further into the shadows of his cell, as if trying to hide from view. "If… if y' want me t' retire from bein' yer bodyguard… I'll understand. I ain't exactly deservin' of it now. I have a feelin' this just ruined our friendship… an' for that… I'm sorry."

Prime regarded his old friend for a long moment. He knew it would be a long time before he was ready to forgive Ironhide for what he'd done. But as much as it hurt knowing what he'd done to Metronix, he knew he couldn't be angry with him forever. They had known each other for too long, trusted each other too deeply. He hated what Ironhide had done… but he couldn't hate Ironhide himself.

"If I recall correctly, you attempted to retire once before," Prime said at last. "I refused to accept it then, and I refuse to accept it now. Once you're out of the brig, I'll expect you to return to your post."

Ironhide's optics rebooted in shock. "But…"

"I accept your apology," he went on, before the warrior could protest further. "I'll need some time before I'm ready to forgive you… but this isn't enough to end the friendship. Sorry to disappoint you on that front."

Ironhide didn't exactly laugh at that last statement, but he snorted in amusement. "Take care of yerself, Optimus. Won't be around for awhile t' watch yer back."

"I'll be careful." He turned and walked out of the brig, feeling, if not exactly happy, at least a bit lighter in the spark. Metronix would be okay, and Ironhide at least recognized that he'd done wrong and had accepted his punishment. Perhaps he would be more accepting of the sparkling from here on out, even if he wasn't exactly fond of him. If he continued to hold a grudge… they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

He headed for the repair bay to pick up Metronix, quickening his step. It seemed things were looking up for them from here on out.

* * *

><p>Metronix was bored – utterly and thoroughly bored out of his cranial unit.<p>

His first few trips to the medical bay had been fraught with a heady mixture of wonder and fear – wonder at the bizarre and intriguing-looking machines and tools that surrounded him, fear at what lay in store for him at the hands of Ratchet. Weekly trips to see the medic for scans, as well as the occasional stays here while Daddy was busy elsewhere, had killed the fear and worn the sense of wonder rather thin. He was familiar with most everything there was to see here, and now watching Ratchet work was getting rather tedious.

The adults were all busy at the moment – Ratchet had a spare limb on a nearby table and was showing Swoop how to fix the delicate circuitry within it, First Aid was in a corner putting away supplies, and Hound was in a light recharge while waiting for the paint to dry on his freshly repaired chassis. No one was paying any attention to him, and he knew if he tried to ask one of them if they'd play with him, they'd just tell him to sit down and not bother them. He was tired of waiting for them to finish, and the lightboard and action figures he'd brought to the medbay with him weren't interesting anymore. He wanted something new to do.

He wanted to ask when Daddy would be back, but he didn't think Ratchet would be in the mood to answer that. And he didn't want to wake up Hound either. He still felt terrible about hurting him, even though the scout had forgiven him and assured him that he understood it was an accident.

His thoughts wandered as he sat on a crate, hugging Spotty to his chest and idly kicking his feet. He wondered if he would ever see Ravage again. Daddy had told him to not talk to him again, and to tell an adult if he saw him, but he at least wanted to see him one last time, and to say goodbye. He hoped he'd get a chance, and that the adults wouldn't chase him off before that happened.

Funny… he'd heard the adults talking about Decepticons from time to time, even before Daddy had explained to him what they were. But he would never have guessed Ravage was one. He seemed too nice. Daddy had described them as being evil and mean, but if Ravage really was one, maybe he was different. Maybe not all of them were as bad as people thought they were.

He wondered if Ravage had met Megatron, or had known him at all. If even Ironhide was scared of Megatron, he had to be one of the evil and scary Decepticons. Maybe that's why Ravage kept sneaking into the Ark – he was scared of Megatron too, and wanted to be with the Autobots so they could protect him. Maybe his friends were the same way, Decepticons who were too nice to be among the evil ones and just wanted to find someplace safe to live…

A light tapping cut into his thoughts, and he glanced around, trying to locate the source.

_Wrong direction, _a familiar voice sounded in his CPU, very faint but clearly there. _Look up._

He glanced up… and a wide grin crossed his face. Ravage peered down at him from the ventilation grate, nose pressed to the metal grid. He almost waved at the cat, but he held still with great effort. He didn't want the grownups to see him and scare him off.

Ravage seemed to realize his predicament, and he motioned off to the side with a paw. Metronix nodded and hopped down from the crate, heading for one of the supply closets. By the time he'd slipped in and shut the door, Ravage had pried open a ceiling panel and joined him inside.

"Hi Ravage," he whispered.

_Hello, little one. _The black cat padded over to him and nudged him gently in the chest with his nose. _You have marks on your chest. Did you fall and hurt yourself?_

"No." Metronix willed himself not to cry, but he wasn't entirely successful. "Ironhide hit me."

Ravage's ears pinned back, and his optics flared in anger. _He hit you?_

Metronix nodded. "Ratchet's gonna fix it soon as he's done talkin' to Swoop. It doesn't hurt anymore, though…"

_Still, you've been hurt. _Ravage snarled, clawing at the floor in agitation. _Where is he? Where's this Ironhide? I'll claw his optics out for hurting you!_

"Don't hurt him!" Metronix urged, alarmed. "Daddy says he's gonna deal with him."

_Hah. He'll deal with him by giving him a slap on the wrist and letting him go. That mech needs to be taught a lesson… _He paused, seeming to catch himself, and he shook his head before staring fixedly at Metronix. _Are you going to be all right?_

He nodded, though inside his spark was pulsing harder. Talking about Daddy reminded him of the promise he'd made… and though he didn't want to do it, neither did he want to disappoint his father.

"Ravage… Daddy says I can't see you anymore."

Ravage gave a soft whine of protest. _Why?_

"He says… he says you're evil." He felt like crying all over again, and he hugged Ravage and tucked his face against his shoulder to try to hide it. "He says you'll hurt me an' that I can't trust you an' I have to run an' tell someone if I see you…"

_Metronix, do you really think I'd hurt you? _Ravage raised a paw and rested it on the small of Metronix's back. _Would I really hurt a friend?_

"N-no… but Daddy…"

_Your father is only scared of what he doesn't understand, _Ravage assured him. _He doesn't know that we're friends, and he only thinks I'm evil because he doesn't know any better. I would never, ever hurt you. And if he didn't frighten me so badly, I'd go right to him and tell him that to his face. _He sighed and lowered his paw. _But I don't want to get you into trouble… so perhaps it is best if I stay away for now._

"Will I ever see you again?"

_Perhaps. "For now" doesn't mean "forever," after all. _He perked his ears up. _Before we part ways for good, perhaps you would like to meet a few of my friends? I did promise you we could see them, and this may be the last chance we get for that._

Metronix nodded. "I'd like that." If this was going to be his last time talking to Ravage, he wanted it to be something he'd remember. "How we gonna get out, though? Ratchet'll see us."

_Not if we go out the way I came in. _He crouched low. _Climb onto my back, and I'll take you there._

He nodded and pulled himself onto the cat's back, holding on tightly with one arm and clutching Spotty to his chest with the other. Sadness gave way to anticipation, and he wriggled excitedly. Finally, a chance to see the awesome mechs Ravage had been talking about!

_Hold still, _Ravage ordered. _And hold on tight. _He crouched lower, every joint in his body tensing, then sprang toward the opening into the ventilation system.

They almost didn't make it. Ravage's lower limbs didn't clear the opening, and he had to sink his claws into the metal and scrabble to get in. Metronix felt himself slipping, and he threw both arms around Ravage's neck to keep from falling. It took a few pump-stopping moments for Ravage to pull himself and the sparkling into the vent.

_Sorry. I'm not used to carrying a passenger._

"Spotty!" Metronix turned to peer down into the supply closet. In the scramble to not fall off he'd dropped the plushie. "We gotta get Spotty…"

_Leave him for now, _Ravage advised. _We won't be long._

Metronix didn't want to leave without the stuffed leopard. But at that moment the door to the supply closet hissed open, and they could hear Ratchet's voice.

"Who's there?" the medic asked. "What in the…"

_Let's go, _Ravage advised, and set off at a brisk trot down the ventilation shaft. Metronix nodded and followed after him. He didn't want to be caught by Ratchet – if he found out he was with Ravage again, he'd be in big trouble.

Wherever they were going, Ravage was in an awful hurry to get there. He didn't slow down as he led the way through the twisting corridors that made up the ventilation system, occasionally looking over his shoulder to be sure Metronix was following. Every so often he had to step through a grate that had been cut open to let him pass, and Metronix had to slow down to squeeze through.

"Where we goin'?" he asked quietly.

_Outside. Rumble and Frenzy will meet us there as soon as they're done taking care of something._

"Ooooh… are there others too? Like Skywarp or Devastator?"

_Perhaps Soundwave will be there too… we'll see._

That brightened his mood considerably, and he hurried after Ravage.

They finally emerged from another grate, and he had to reboot his optics once or twice to adjust them to the sunlight. This particular shaft opened up to a vent high up on the side of the mountain, with a thick forest spread out below. The sight reminded Metronix of that first time he'd seen Daddy, of the fire and trees and smoke all around…

Or was that the first time he'd seen him? There were faint images of before… of metal striking metal, of ozone and smoke burning his olfactory sensors, of pain and anger and fear… He shook his head, not wanting to think about that, and hurried after Ravage. The cassette hadn't paused at all, and he had to run to catch up to him.

"How much farther?" he asked, trying not to whine. He was getting tired, and running down the side of a mountain was much harder than it looked.

_We'll stop when we get to the forest, _Ravage replied. _Rumble and Frenzy will meet us there._

Metronix nodded and tried to pick up his pace. A few time she slipped and almost fell, but Ravage was always there to catch him with a shoulder. By the time they made it to the base of the slope he was exhausted, but a thrill of triumph passed through him. They'd made it… and they were so close to getting to see Rumble and Frenzy!

_This way, _Ravage advised, and ducked into the trees. Metronix didn't even hesitate and plunged in after him.

"Oy Ravage, what took you so long?"

Metronix froze, staring at the speaker. Ravage had mentioned that Rumble was small, but he hadn't imagined that he'd be even smaller than a sparkling. The purple, visored mech had been sitting on a fallen log, and upon spotting Ravage he hopped to his feet and gave him an expectant look.

_You think its easy sneaking out of the base with a sparkling in tow? _Ravage demanded, sitting down at the base of a tree. _Did you get the immobilizer?_

"Yeah," Rumble replied. "You'd think Wheeljack would lock his lab up tighter." He turned to Metronix and gave him an intense look. "This him? Smaller than I thought he'd be."

"He ain't gonna be small for much longer," another mech reminded him, this one identical to Rumble save in color – black and red to Rumble's purple and blue. "Heya, kid. Ravage's told us all about you."

Metronix didn't know what to say to that, and settled for giving him a shy wave. "Hi."

"Primus, he's mellowed," Rumble laughed. "So we gonna blow this joint or what?"

"Blow what?" Metronix asked, puzzled. "We gonna blow something up?"

Ravage shook his head. _We're leaving. It's not safe to stay here for very long._

"But I thought I was gonna meet you guys," Metronix protested, more confused than ever.

"You're gonna meet a lot of us here in a bit," Frenzy laughed. "C'mon guys, let's jet to the space bridge. Soundwave's gonna get the kid."

Before Metronix could ask what he meant, something scooped up Metronix from behind. For a moment he panicked and squirmed to break free, thinking that perhaps Daddy had caught up with them and was going to punish him…

"Hold still," a monotone, heavily modulated voice ordered. "No harm will come to you."

Metronix froze and looked up into his captor's face – or what would have been his face had it not been covered by a red visor and white mask. The blue-and-white mech looked impassively back, visor brightening once before resuming its usual steady glow. He nodded once, as if satisfied, then tucked Metronix under one arm and set off at a brisk walk.

"Ravage, assist Rumble and Frenzy in transporting the immobilizer," Soundwave ordered. "Rendezvous at the space bridge."

_Yes sir, _Ravage reported

Metronix craned his neck around to see Ravage hurry over to something white and shiny laying in the grass, which Rumble and Frenzy were struggling to pick up. He wasn't so excited about meeting Ravage's friends anymore – now he only felt bewildered and frightened.

"Ravage!" he shouted. "What's happening?"

Ravage paused in trying to shift the white object to look up at Metronix. _Please don't fight us, Metronix. This is for your own good. Something has gone terribly wrong with you, and we're going to fix it. Trust me… I'm your friend._

Metronix wanted to shout something back about what he meant by "terribly wrong," but Soundwave pushed deeper into the forest, and within moments Ravage was obscured from view. He renewed his squirming, struggling to wriggle free of the blue mech's grip, but Soundwave only tightened his hold and kept walking. The fear gave way to panic, and he screamed.

"Daddy! Daddy, help me! DADDY!"


	11. Chapter 11

The nightmare began when Ratchet met Prime and Prowl at the door to the medbay, a grave expression on his faceplate.

"What is it?" Prime asked, feeling as if someone had punched a hole in his fuel tank. Were Metronix injuries worse than they'd first assumed? Or worse… no, he wouldn't think of the worst-case scenario – he couldn't allow himself to think about that. Besides, Ratchet wouldn't be waiting at the door if that was the case, he would be in the repair bay trying to restrain Megatron and protect his patients.

"Metronix is missing," Ratchet reported. "I turned my back on him for a moment and when I looked back, he was gone. First Aid and Swoop both say they can't remember seeing him leave."

Prime opened his mouth to reply, but his vocalizer refused to work for a moment. Missing? Not again, please not again…

"Have you contacted any other Autobots regarding this?" asked Prowl. "He could have slipped out to find the twins or the Dinobots for company."

Ratchet shook his head. "The door was shut the entire time. He couldn't have gotten out without me noticing." He motioned the officers inside. "There's something else, too."

Prime trailed after the medic, fighting the urge to panic. Metronix going missing so soon after this incident couldn't be coincidence. Maybe he was afraid Ironhide would come back and hurt him again, or maybe he had spotted Ravage, panicked, and hid… he was small enough that there were any number of places in the repair bay he could conceal himself…

Ratchet opened a supply closet. "I heard noises coming from here, and this is what I found."

Prime's spark sputtered in horror. Spotty lay abandoned on the floor… and a ceiling panel had been moved aside, leaving a clear path to the base's ventilation system open. And to make matters worse, deep claw marks had been gouged in the floor – the distinctive marks Prime had seen all to often in the armor of Autobots after they had tangled with Soundwave's cassettes.

"Ravage," he croaked, rage and terror warring in his spark, each emotion trying to choke out the other.

"Then it WAS the cassettes," Prowl realized. "Ravage was disabling the cameras in order to spy on Metronix. He was waiting for the right time to abduct him."

Prime finally fought back his fear and anger long enough to speak clearly. "It's not just that. Metronix told me Ravage would visit him when he was alone, and convince him that he was his friend. I told him to have nothing more to do with him and to tell an adult if he ever saw him again."

"Apparently he couldn't resist one last visit," Ratchet noted darkly. "Orders, Prime? I can have every medic and repair tech in this place on search patrol in thirty astroseconds."

"It won't do any good," Prowl replied. "If Ravage took him out the ventilation system, he's long gone by now. Even if Blaster mobilized his cassettes, I doubt they could catch up to him."

Prime sank to his knees and pulled the plush leopard toward him, lifting it in his hands. He felt as if this were happening to someone else, as if he were watching a holovid of this happening to another mech. He couldn't have lost Metronix… not now. Not when it felt as if things were finally settling down for good. Not when he thought everything was working out so well.

"Prime, your orders?" Prowl requested, repeating Ratchet's question. "Where do we go from here?"

Prime held the leopard to his chest and pushed himself to his feet, feeling the anger finally overcome the terror. At the moment, anger was his best ally. Fear would only paralyze him… but anger he could use. Anger would motivate him to find Metronix, and to rescue him from his captors. He swore he would stop at nothing to rescue the sparkling… and he would make Soundwave and his minions pay dearly for taking him.

"Prowl, I need your logic," Prime told him. "Soundwave has Metronix, or will soon have him. Where will he take him?"

Prowl pondered that a moment, optics going out of focus as he ran the scenario through his CPU. "Soundwave has been loyal solely to Megatron in the past, so I doubt he would take Metronix back to the Nemesis with Starscream still in charge. He would most likely find allies elsewhere who share his allegiance to Megatron – most likely Shockwave. Shockwave has never expressed interest in coming to Earth and would be unlikely to leave his duties on Cybertron, so it's probable that Soundwave has taken Metronix to the space bridge and transported him to Shockwave's laboratory."

That made sense… or at least, the "how" of it made sense. Prime had no idea just WHY Soundwave would want the sparkling. He wasn't Megatron any longer, so what possible use could the sparkling be to the Decepticons now?

Wheeljack hurried up at that moment, optics wide. "Ratch, someone busted into my lab! They just took… uh, sorry, am I interruptin' somethin'?"

"Just an abduction investigation," Ratchet replied testily. "Fraggit Wheeljack, can't this wait until the crisis is over?"

"Abduction?" Wheeljack repeated, stunned. "The kid's missing?"

"Back up a bit," Prime ordered, a sense of dread building in his fuel tank. "You mentioned a break-in. What do you mean by that?"

"Just what I said!" Wheeljack replied, throwing his hands up. "I took a break and came back to the lab to find my work bench cleared off and everything on it missin'! Quick lil' fraggers, I was only gone a minute…"

The dread only intensified at that. "Wheeljack… what did they take?"

Wheeljack started to speak, then froze. His optics widened in horror, and his headfins bleached white. "I was workin' on the immobilizer… it and my notes on its construction were on the workbench. That's what they took."

The world wavered around Prime, his vision suddenly going fuzzy. Ratchet's startled shout seemed to come from far away, and he only vaguely felt hands supporting him as his legs threatened to give out under him. It all made perfect, hideous sense now. The Decepticons knew everything, knew about Metronix and how he had come to be. And now they had the sparkling and the immobilizer, and were going to attempt to reverse the procedure and return Metronix to his former state as Megatron.

"No." He shuttered his optics and forced himself to remain steady, forcing his equilibrium sensors into a hard reboot to ensure his balance. He was not going to let Soundwave win so easily. And he was not going to lose Metronix. He had already lost so much to the Decepticons… he would not lose his son. Not even if he had to die to protect him.

"Prowl, Ratchet, you're coming with me," Prime ordered. "Wheeljack, you too. If the cassettes truly have the immobilizer, your expertise may be needed. Jazz will be in charge of the Ark while we're gone."

"So it's a rescue mission?" asked Prowl.

"It's a rescue mission," Prime confirmed. "It's too late to hope to beat Soundwave to Cybertron, but we have to get there before Shockwave figures out the immobilizer."

"So all we have to do is commandeer the space bridge, fight past Shockwave's drone guards, and snatch the kid back?" Ratchet asked, arching an optic ridge. "Here I thought it would be tough."

"That's exactly what we're going to do," Prime replied, ignoring the medic's sarcasm. "I need a team of Autobots assembled immediately – mechs who have spent time with Metronix and whom he trust, such as Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Bumblebee, Bluestreak, and Hound if his repairs are finished." A sudden, desperate thought occurred to him. "And I want Blaster to contact the Nemesis."

"The Nemesis?" Ratchet repeated. "I thought Prowl was sure they wouldn't take him there!"

"I want a word with Starscream," Prime replied. "Immediately."

* * *

><p>Shockwave heard the sparkling before he ever laid his optic on him. The sound of the space bridge powering down after a transport faded, but the frantic, terrified crying remained. His headfins twitched slightly in annoyance. Well, at least the sounds were a somewhat good sign – that Soundwave had accomplished his mission, and that they were one step closer to getting the proper leader of the Decepticons back.<p>

The doors to the space bridge opened, and Soundwave stepped into the control room, the sparkling in his arms and the cassettes on his heels dragging a large white gun.

"You've recovered Megatron," Shockwave noted, allowing a hint of pleasure to creep into his voice. "Most excellent."

"He has sustained damage," Soundwave informed him. "Dents to the chestplate. Repairs: necessary."

"Repairs can wait," Shockwave replied. "Reversing the effects of the immobilizer takes precedence. Once Megatron is restored to normal, we will see to his damages." He motioned for Soundwave to follow. "Take him and the device to my laboratory."

"What, too good to help us lug this thing?" Rumble grouched. "It ain't exactly light."

Shockwave ignored the cassette and led the way to the labs. Seekers and military drones patrolled the hallways, and they stepped respectfully aside as the two Decepticon officers made their way past. More than one mech stopped to give the pair a curious look, however, at the sight and sound of the sparkling in Soundwave's grip. Shockwave didn't pause to explain himself – he would have Megatron back to normal before the rumor mill had time to process this and spread it to Cybertron's general populace.

"I wanna go home!" the sparkling wailed. "I want Daddy!"

"You are home," Shockwave informed him. "It would seem the immobilizer has tampered with your memory banks as well as your frame. I will remedy that." He nodded at the two Rainmakers standing guard outside the labs and keyed the door open, motioning for Soundwave to take the sparkling inside and set him on a table. Then he bent down and took the immobilizer from Rumble and Frenzy.

"Interesting design," he noted. "More influenced by Earth technology than Cybertronian, at least aesthetically. I would not have expected an Autobot to model a scientific device after a weapon, however."

_Unless the plan was to use it as a weapon, _Ravage pointed out. _We also secured the design notes for the immobilizer, should you desire them._

"That would be most appreciated." Shockwave turned and set the immobilizer on a nearby counter, then turned to study the sparkling. Despite the similarities in design, Shockwave was hard-pressed to reconcile the image of this tiny, shaking mech with his memories of the Decepticon commander. The fact that he didn't appear to recognize Shockwave didn't help matters, and it annoyed the violet mech to some degree that he, Megatron's most loyal soldier, had been forgotten.

"You may relax and calm yourself, Megatron," Shockwave told him. "No one will hurt you here."

The sparkling shook his head, optics wide and frantic. "Not Megatron!"

Shockwave flicked his headfins back, his best attempt at a puzzled expression. "You aren't Megatron? You don't remember your own name?"

"Not Megatron!" he insisted. "I'm Metronix! I wanna go home! Please, I'll never run away again, I just wanna go home!" He buried his face in his arms and sobbed.

Ravage hopped up onto the table and slunk toward Metronix, putting on the best comforting expression a cat was capable of. _Megatron, we only want to help you. You trust me, don't you?_

Metronix scooted as far from Ravage as the table would allow. "Go away! I don't like you anymore! I wanna go home to Daddy! An' stop callin' me Megatron!"

Shockwave's headfins stayed pinned back, but out of anger instead of confusion. "So the Autobots have lied to you. They give you a false name and hide the truth from you in an effort to make you one of them. They are not only fools, but cruel to you."

The sparkling continued to sob. Shockwave sighed and looked up at Soundwave, who nodded and reached out to put a careful hand on Metronix's back. He tried to shy away from the touch, but the cassette-carrier began to play a soothing tune on his speakers, channeling the vibrations from the music down his arm and into the sparkling's chassis. The tape deck had used this tactic many times to calm down his cassettes, and it seemed to work for Metronix as well, for his crying slowly eased off.

"Child," Shockwave said softly, infusing as much concern and kindness into his voice as he could, "we don't mean you any harm. We did not mean to frighten you. We want only to help you."

Metronix looked up at the gunformer, optic cleanser streaking his face. "Gonna help me go home?"

"In a sense." Technically he was already home, but pressing that point had gotten them nowhere. "Metronix… do you know who you are? Do you remember anything before the Autobots took you in among them?"

The sparkling shook his head. Then he paused, as if remembering something, and he nodded hesitantly. "It's scary, though…"

"Don't be frightened of what you remember," Shockwave encouraged. "It is simply the memory of your former life – your true life, before the Autobots took it away from you. You are remembering your past as Megatron, leader of the Decepticons."

Metronix's mouth dropped open in horror. "Nuh-UH! Daddy says Megatron's dead!"

"He lies," Shockwave insisted. "Megatron engaged him in battle several decacycles ago, and fell victim to a superweapon attack… one that wiped his memory and transformed him into a sparkling. One that turned him into you."

"That's not true!" Metronix screamed. "Daddy wouldn't lie! An' I'm not Megatron!"

"I speak the truth," Shockwave replied calmly. "Optimus Prime, the mech you call father, is using and manipulating you. Turning you into a sparkling may have been an accident, but he saw fit to gain something from it – an advantage in the war. He hopes to raise you as an Autobot, to turn you into one of his own soldiers, and to take away your position as Decepticon leader. He would alter your destiny to fit his own agenda."

Metronix just stared at him, though whether it was because he was struggling to process this revelation or because he didn't understand what was being said, Shockwave wasn't sure.

"We only want to restore to you what Optimus Prime took," Shockwave insisted. "We are your friends. We want Megatron to come back to us."

"I want Daddy," he whined. "He's not evil. He's good an' awesome. An' he's gonna come here and kick your butt!"

"By the time Optimus Prime gets here," Shockwave replied smoothly, "we will have restored you to your true form. And you will understand, and remember." He turned to Soundwave. "Keep him calm and occupied while I study the immobilizer and reverse its properties. Once I am sure I have altered it to suit our needs, we will proceed."

"Affirmative," Soundwave replied, nodding in satisfaction. "Megatron's return: imminent."

"Indeed." He turned to the immobilizer and ran his hand over it, searching for a seam or catch that he might access its internal components. Soon Megatron would be back in power, and both Starscream and Optimus Prime would get what they so richly deserved… by Megatron's own hand.

* * *

><p>Starscream's face sprang to life on the monitor, a gloating smile on his lip plates. "So the almighty Optimus Prime has finally deigned to contact Lord Starscream, leader of the Decepticons. Are you ready to give me the terms of your surrender?"<p>

Sideswipe snorted from behind Prime. The Autobot leader might have chuckled as well had the situation not been so serious.

The mechs Prime had selected to accompany him to Cybertron gathered around the screen, though they stayed a respectful distance back and let their leader do the talking. Jazz and Blaster were also present, Jazz to step into place as the default commander in Prime's absence, Blaster to manage the communications channel with the Nemesis. The tape deck had been rather stunned at Prime's order, but he had complied without question.

Prime hoped that he would be able to talk sense into Starscream, and come to an agreement with him. He couldn't be sure, though. His involvement with the Air Commander was limited, and though he knew the treacherous Seeker had long aspired to overthrow Megatron and take his place, he had never considered it possible for Starscream to actually succeed. And while he was used to being able to come to a truce with Megatron for short periods of time, he had no idea whether Starscream would be agreeable to a similar bargain.

"I'm afraid you're not so lucky this time, Starscream," Prime informed him. "I'm contacting you to arrange a deal."

Starscream scowled. "I don't make deals with Autobots. This discussion is over."

"Before you cut the connection, hear me out," Prime replied. "It concerns Megatron… and your future as Decepticon leader."

Starscream hesitated. The implied threat to his new position had been enough to grab his interest. "What about it?"

"During his final battle against us, Megatron was accidentally transformed-"

"Into a sparkling," Starscream finished, smirking. "Old news, Optimus. We Decepticons aren't nearly as stupid as you like to think us. Is the brat giving you problems?"

Prime drew himself up straight, fully prepared to defend Metronx against the "brat" accusation. Jazz elbowed him lightly in the side, though, and with a brief shake of his head he returned the conversation to its original path.

"Metronix, as we have taken to calling him, has gone missing. And we believe Soundwave has taken him."

Starscream scowled. "You think I ordered him to snatch the sparkling as a hostage? Get your cranial unit examined, Prime. He's not here. If he were, I would have ordered him shipped back to you as soon as possible."

"We were accusing you of nothing," Prime replied. "Think about it, Starscream. Do you know where Soundwave is at this moment?"

Starscream opened his mouth to reply, then slowly shut it as realization clicked into place in his CPU. "So… that's why he's been avoiding my radio hails. He's going to pay for this. Though if it's the lousy 8-track who has him, why are you pestering me about it? Why not contact him?"

"Because we believe he is on Cybertron, with Shockwave… and that's where you come in. I want you to give us access to the space bridge."

Starscream threw his head back and belted out a raucous laugh. "Oh, that's rich! You honestly expected me to just give you the run of the space bridge just because you ask nicely! Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Do you really wanna answer t' that, Screamer?" asked Jazz, smirking.

"Jazz," Prowl said sternly. "Don't provoke him."

"Think about it," Prime told the Seeker. "Soundwave and Shockwave have Metronix… and they also have the immobilizer, the device responsible for his transformation. Do you honestly think their next move will simply be to raise Metronix as a Decepticon? They intend to return him to his original form… and you know what that will mean to your position as leader of the Decepticons."

Starscream was silent a moment as he mulled that over. "Fine. Since you put it THAT way." He reached down and touched a control on the console before him. "The space bridge will be open in exactly half an hour, at coordinates just outside your base. But I open it on one condition."

Prime frowned, not liking the sound of this already. "What condition?"

"I go with you," he demanded. "I don't trust you, Optimus, and I'm not just going to let you run off to Cybertron and undermine my rule there. I intend to keep a close optic on you."

"So long as you don't mind us returning the favor," Prime replied. "Half an hour, then. My troops and I will meet you at the space bridge. Come alone."

"Negative," Starscream replied. "If you get to bring your simpering lackeys along for the ride, I get to bring my own troops."

"Fine," Prime relinquished. "You may bring one of your Decepticons along as a bodyguard if you feel the need to."

"Four," Starscream countered.

"Two," Prime retorted.

"Three – no, two will do, I suppose. Starscream out." And the screen blinked out.

"It's a trap," Sunstreaker muttered. "He's going to set us up somehow. The space bridge'll dump us off in deep space or a black hole somewhere…"

"Or his two troops will be Devastator and Bruticus or something," Sideswipe added.

"When'd you two become Gears and Huffer?" Ratchet demanded. "Wheeljack'll check the coordinates before we take the bridge, and we'll make Starscream and whoever comes with him go through first. That'll solve that issue."

"He won't try to sabotage this," Prime said, feeling a sliver of confidence for the first time since this whole crisis had begun. "Not when it's his leadership on the line. He'll want Metronix away from Shockwave and Soundwave." He turned to Jazz. "You and Blaster are in charge while I'm gone. Alert me if there are any problems."

"Roger that, Prime," Jazz replied, nodding. "Good luck."

"Autobots, roll out!" Prime ordered, and folded down to his truck mode. The others followed suit and fell into place behind him as he drove out of the control room, heading for the base's exit.

* * *

><p>"Man, never thought the day would come that we'd be driving off to save Megatron," Bumblebee noted. "Or teaming up with Starscream to do it."<p>

"Life's full of surprises, ain't it?" Sideswipe replied. "How much farther? Thought Screamer was going to put the space bridge close to the base."

"He'd want it far enough away that we wouldn't be able to call in reinforcements," Wheeljack pointed out. "He may not be trustworthy, but he ain't stupid either.

As they drove, Prowl pulled up alongside Prime and flicked his lights and siren on briefly to get his attention. "Private channel, sir."

_What is it? _Prime asked.

_Prime, I want an honest answer from you on something._

_I already told you I was through with keeping secrets. What do you want to know?_

_Prime… it's regarding something Ironhide said. If we get there too late, and Metronix is made Megatron again… do you think you can fight him? _

Prime was silent a moment, struggling with how to answer that. _It won't happen, _he insisted. _We WILL get there in time…_

_We don't know that, sir. It's possible Shockwave will figure out how to reverse-engineer the immobilizer before we get there, and that Megatron will be back by the time we get to him. I'm asking again – will you be able to fight Megatron? If he should attack us while we're on Cybertron, would you be able to defend yourself and the Autobots… even if it means firing on Megatron?_

Prowl might as well have stabbed him right in the spark chamber with those words. He knew his responsibilities to the Autobots took precedence above all else, and that he was sworn to fight all who would threaten them… but the very thought of opening fire on the mech who he had once regarded as a son made him quail in horror. If he had to go up against Megatron now, he was certain his spark would break.

The tactician took his silence for an answer. _Then if we get there and Metronix is Megatron again, I'm going to ask that you stay away from the fighting. Let the Autobots handle this. Even if it means we have to take down Megatron._

_Prowl, you can't…_

_Optimus, _Prowl said firmly, _I mean it. I won't have you compromise the safety of the Autobots. And I won't let the troops be demoralized by seeing their leader turn on them to save Megatron. I'm sorry… but we've come too far to risk losing everything now._

Prime wanted to scream at Prowl, insisting that they would get there in time, but he held his vocalizer. _Just… promise me in return… that you'll be merciful. Don't make him suffer._

Prowl considered that. _That's an acceptable request. You have my word that we'll make it quick._

Prime didn't say anything in return, just gunned his accelerator. Prowl didn't press the issue or question him further, and lagged behind slightly to give him his space.

Behind a small rise, Starscream stood beside the steel ring of the space bridge, arms folded and a smug look on his face. Thundercracker leaned against the bridge itself, looking more bored than anything, while Skywarp toyed with one of his arm guns a short distance away. As the Autobots pulled up Skywarp spotted them and raised his arm to shoot, but a quick glare from Starscream made him lower the weapon, though with some reluctance.

"So Starscream actually kept his word?" Sideswipe noted, transforming and smirking at the Decepticon leader. "That's new. Is he sick or something?"

"That's LORD Starscream to you, Autobot," Starscream sneered. "Why does no one choose to remember that?"

Thundercracker made a show of rolling his optics.

"We made an agreement, Starscream," Prime informed him, transforming to robot mode. "Power up the space bridge. Wheeljack will double-check the coordinates before we go."

Starscream put on his best hurt expression. "You don't trust me, Optimus? My, how you wound me."

"We trust you about as far as we can throw a citybot," Sunstreaker retorted.

"Oh yeah?" Skywarp sneered. "You couldn't throw a cassette, let alone a minibot."

"Your creator was a minibot!" Sideswipe countered.

"Well, YOUR creator was a garbage scow!"

"Enough of this!" Prime snapped, his worry for Metronix having worn his patience too thin already. "We don't have time for insults! We have to get to Cyberton now! Starscream, activate the bridge!"

Skywarp quieted and gave Prime a weird look. Thundercracker, too, frowned and stared at the Autobot leader, as if he were looking at a complete stranger.

"Never known the Prime to lose his temper before," the blue Seeker noted. "What's on Cybertron that's so important anyhow?"

"It's a rescue mission!" Bluestreak replied. "We're going to rescue Metronix!"

Skywarp blinked. "Who? That some new citybot or something? And why are we helpin' Autobots again, Screamer?"

"That's Lord Starscream to you, and it's not important," Starscream snapped, looking up from the space bridge controls. "We're simply accompanying the Autobots to ensure they don't cause trouble while they're on Cybertron, or try to take the space bridge for themselves. Just keep them out of trouble, you two."

Thundercracker's frown deepened. "There's something you aren't telling us, Starscream…"

"LORD Starscream," he hissed. "And you'd do well to stop questioning and start following orders!" He stepped back from the console. "Coordinates are plugged in. Your engineer's free to take a look."

Wheeljack hurried forward and studied the screen. "Coordinates are sound. They should take us to Shockwave's tower on Cybertron." He nodded and stepped back. "Let's do this."

"Starscream, lead the way," Prime ordered. "Everyone else stay close behind. I don't want to risk us getting separated."

Starscream stepped into the space bridge, followed by the other two Seekers. Prime led his troops in right behind them, bracing himself for the sense of disorientation that always came with using this method of transport. They had to get to Cybertron as fast as possible… and make sure that neither he nor Prowl had to make good on their promises.

_Hold on, little one… I'm coming._


	12. Chapter 12

_"Today is the day that you die, Optimus Prime! Die at my hands!"_

_Prime hit the ground and rolled in an effort to dodge the blast. His opponent snarled at the miss, then gave a sinister laugh and stepped closer, the flickering firelight reflected in gold splashes on his armor. The world was ablaze all around them, everything in sight save the two of them smothered by fire, screams and crackling flames ringing in their audials. Prime had long lost track of the other Autobots, and there was no doubt in his CPU that they were either dead by now, or adding their own dying screams to the cacophony roaring in his head. The crazed mech before him would lay the entire planet to waste just to ensure his goal... his goal of killing Prime._

_And Prime couldn't do anything to stop him. Or rather could... but wouldn't. Not even if it meant his death._

_"Metronix," he gasped, rising shakily to his feet, trying to ignore the agony of the wounds his opponent had already inflicted. "Don't do this. Please..."_

_"You always were too soft-sparked for your own good, Optimus," the silver mech gloated. "The others were wiser than you, and warned you repeatedly that this day would come. Now Cybertron is mine, Earth is a ruined husk... and you have none but yourself to blame."_

_A massive black fist cracked him in the side of the head, and he reeled back, stunned. His attacker laughed again and spread his arms wide, as if inviting Prime to strike back. It would have been so easy to draw his axe and bury it in the other mech's chest, to end it here and now._

_But he couldn't. Not now. He would sooner die than harm him._

_"Metronix, I know you don't want to do this," he pleaded. "Please... you are my son. You are better than this! I know it!"_

_A disdainful laugh was his only answer. "You honestly thought you could change me into an Autobot, Prime? You thought you could make a difference? I am who I am - my fate is written into my very programming. You cannot hope to change that."_

_"You are far more than what your programming dictates, Metronix," Prime insisted. "You're not sentenced to become this... you can choose your own destiny. Please... Metronix... don't do this."_

_A snarl in reply, and he felt the muzzle of a cannon pressed to his chest._

_"I am no longer Metronix! My name... is MEGATRON!"_

"Prime, wake up! Prime!"

Prime jolted online, vents sucking in a frantic intake to cool his panicked systems. He sat up abruptly, almost bowling Bumblebee over. The yellow minibot had been bent over him trying to wake him up, while above him Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and Hound were standing over him as if to guard him from some unseen threat. Ratchet knelt at his side, scanner in hand and a scowl on his face.

"What... happened?" he asked, his CPU still trying to find its footing after emerging from dream state.

"Passing through the space bridge can cause adverse effects in mechs," Ratchet replied, checking the scanner readouts. "Including but not limited to disorientation, hallucinations, weakness, and even falling offline for brief periods of time. Thankfully there's no permanent side effects, and the most you've got is a bit of overheating." He stowed the scanner away and held a hand out to Prime, who took it gratefully and pulled himself to his feet.

"Sounded like you were having a nightmare, sir," Bumblebee said worriedly. "You were talking about Metronix."

"I'm fine, Bumblebee," he assured the yellow spy, nodding at him. "We have more important things to worry about now than my nightmares."

Bumblebee nodded and hurried out. Prime followed, trying to put the nightmare out of his own CPU as well as he could. Even when offline, his fears wouldn't leave him alone. More than anything, the thought of getting to Metronix too late to stop Shockwave's plan terrified him.

Or was it merely his fears bubbling to the surface that had sparked the dream? Or perhaps something more? Cybertronian mythology didn't put much stock in the idea of dreams being portents of the future… but one couldn't be sure. And perhaps it hadn't been merely his own subconscious warning him of things to come, but the Matrix itself. Was he truly making a grave mistake? Would his actions regarding Metronix save Cybertron… or doom two worlds to destruction?

He thrust the thought angrily from his mind. No… he would not let that future come to pass. They would get to Metronix in time. He had to keep convincing himself of that, not let himself fall into despair.

Outside the space bridge chamber, Starscream was waiting, arms folded and one foot tapping impatiently on the floor. "It's about time, Prime. You demand my help and then keep me waiting while you take a little nap. How rude."

"He says that when he passed out on his first trip through the space bridge too," snickered Skywarp.

"Shut up about that!" Starscream snapped, whirling to glare at him.

"There'll be time to exchange insults and one-liners after we have rescued Metronix," Prime informed the Seekers. "Do you know where Shockwave is?"

"According to the computer logs, he's in his lab," Thundercracker offered. "There's strict orders not to disturb him either. Top secret project, I guess."

"Since when did we just casually hand information to the Autobots?" Starscream demanded.

"Since when did we team up with Autobots on rescue missions?" Thundercracker shot back. "You still haven't explained what all this is about."

"You don't question my orders!" Starscream snapped. "You just follow them!"

Prime knew exactly why Starscream was keeping the exact nature of their mission a secret from his comrades - he feared that if they knew they were preventing Shockwave from bringing Megatron back, they would turn against him and side with the guardian of Cybertron. He had no desire to clarify the situation for them either, for at the moment he and Starscream had the same goals. And this mission would be difficult enough without adding to their obstacles.

"How far is it to Shockwave's lab?" he asked.

"'Bout a ten-minute walk, if I remember right," Wheeljack replied. "'Course, no telling how many 'Cons are between here and there."

"Then let's move out," Prime ordered. "We don't have much time. Starscream, will the Decepticons obey your orders if you tell them to stand down?"

"They SHOULD," he snorted, "but if Shockwave's influenced them they probably won't."

"Then we'll have to go in shooting," Hound noted. "Doesn't sound like there's any other way."

Prime nodded. "Autobots, move out!"

"Decepticons, follow me!" Starscream ordered. "Any who will defy my rule shall be crushed!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," grumbled Skywarp, trailing after the white Seeker.

Prowl led the way out of the control center, acid rifle at the ready. Prime and Starscream followed close behind, side by side, with the other Autobots and the two Seekers falling into place behind their respective commanders. Ratchet and Bluestreak took up the rear, the gunner doing his best to follow the others and at the same time keep an optic behind them to ensure they weren't ambushed.

"Don't think I'll be doing this on a regular basis for you, Prime," Starscream sneered. "Once we have your precious brat back, the deal is off."

"I had no illusions of you doing otherwise," Prime replied.

Prowl skidded to a stop, shouting a warning. The corridor ahead was blocked by a group of Shockwave's battle drones, weapons raised, faces ominously blank as they regarded their opponents with soulless, dispassionate optics. Evidently Megatron's lieutenant had anticipated a rescue operation, and had sent a squad to stop or at least delay them.

A blast of laser fire hissed by Prime, scorching a black line through the paint on his shoulder. In retaliation he opened fire, the blasts tearing through the drone's chest and virtually obliterating its internal components. The other drones didn't even flinch at the demise of one of their own, and merely stepped over and around its ruined chassis as they pressed the attack.

Starscream gave a screech of outrage as a blast punched through his wing. "You dare fire on Lord Starscream! You will pay for this! Skywarp, Thundercracker, destroy them!"

"Sure, make us do your dirty work," Thundercracker grumbled, but opened fire anyhow. Skywarp vanished in a flare of violet, only to materialize behind the drones and proceed to shoot several in the back before they realized what was happening.

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker didn't even bother with their guns – they charged into the thick of things, Sideswipe whooping and cheering as if this were merely some sort of macabre sport for him, Sunstreaker silent and focused in stark contrast. Drones went flying as the twins laid into them, punching and jabbing, aiming for optics and joints and other weak spots.

Within minutes, it was over. The last drone went down, head separated from its shoulders by a well-timed swipe of Ratchet's laser scalpel. The medic watched it collapse with a grim expression as he deactivated the instrument and stowed it into subspace. Ratchet didn't join the front lines of battle often, but when he did his opponents often made the mistake of assuming that he was a lousy fighter simply because of his primary function. The few mechs that walked away from him never made that mistake twice.

"That was easier than I thought it would be," Hound noted, lowering his rifle.

"A little too easy," Ratchet noted darkly. "If Shocks knows we're coming, you'd think he'd throw a few elites in with the mooks."

"Mooks?" Thundercracker repeated, raising an optic ridge.

"Never mind," Ratchet replied dismissively. "Let's keep moving. The sooner we get to Metronix and out of this place, the better. The more I stand here, the more I feel like a walking target."

"Just who is this Metronix you guys keep talking about?" Thundercracker demanded. "And why's he so fraggin' important to both you and Starscream?

"He's Megatron as a sparkli-" began Bluestreak, but the rest of his sentence came out a "mmph!" as Hound slapped a hand over his mouth.

Thundercracker's optics blinked in a sudden reboot, his CPU managing to complete Bluestreak's sentence for him. "Megatron… as a sparkling? Tell me you're joking."

Skywarp doubled over, convulsing with laughter. "Oh… my… Primus! Megatron's a kid! I am SO tellin' Astro when we get back, he'll have hysterics! Is he cute? Tell me he's cute, adorable Megatron would be so ironic but great…"

"Shut up, you moron," Thundercracker griped, kicking his teammate in the shin to shut him up. "It's not funny." He quickly scanned the corridor, as if doing a mental head count, and frowned. "Where's Starscream?"

"Dunno, wasn't my day to watch him," Skywarp retorted. "Ain't he with Optimus?"

Prime looked to his side, where he had last seen Starscream standing, but the Air Commander had vanished. He glanced up and down the corridor, but saw no sign of him. The Seeker's reputation as a slick devil had upheld, and he had managed to slip away in the chaos of the fight.

His internals lurched painfully as he realized what Starscream must be up to. He wasn't going to help the Autobots rescue Metronix – he was going to try to beat the Autobots to Shockwave's lab and take care of the Megatron problem permanently. He had the leadership of the Decepticons, the prize he had always wanted, and he wasn't about to take any chance of Megatron coming back to reclaim the throne, no matter how small said chance was.

"He's going to kill Metronix," he said aloud, voice heavy with dread.

Sideswipe's optics widened. "He wouldn't dare…"

"He would," Thundercracker countered. "Megatron small and helpless and unable to fight back? Perfect opportunity as far as Starscream's concerned."

Prime didn't stop to listen to the others discuss this turn of events, or even to think and process it through. He took off at a dead run, leaping over the chassis of a drone that lay in his path, charging down the corridor for the labs.

"Prime, stop!" Prowl shouted, bolting after him. "We need a plan! This could be a trap!"

"My son is in danger!" Prime cried, not slowing his pace. Plan or not, trap or not, he had to get there fast. Every moment he hesitated could be deadly. He couldn't let Shockwave or Starscream succeed in their plans. If either of them managed to accomplish what they had in mind, it would shatter him.

* * *

><p>Metronix had decided that if he ever got back home to Daddy, he would never disobey him again. He wished he'd listened to him when he'd said that Ravage was evil and not to be trusted. He wished he hadn't gone to visit him one last time, or snuck away with him to meet his "friends." Now he understood what Daddy had meant by them being evil… and though he didn't fully understand what they wanted to do, he somehow knew what they planned meant he would never see his father again.<p>

Ravage sat at the other end of the table, watching Metronix carefully. He seemed to be waiting for something… in fact, they all did. Soundwave, Ravage, Rumble, and Frenzy were all watching him expectantly, as if waiting for something to happen. Once in awhile Soundwave would touch his back and play a little music, trying to calm him down, but every time he tried to scoot away as much as he could. He didn't want a stranger touching him, even if Ravage kept insisting that Soundwave was a friend too and that he could trust him.

He didn't believe Ravage anymore – the cat had lied to him before, so he had to be lying now. Soundwave and Shockwave looked too creepy to be trusted, the one hiding his face all the time and the other with no face at all. And they lied too, insisting he was that evil Megatron that Daddy had talked about, talking about changing him into something horrible…

But there was part of his CPU that wondered if they were lying… or if there was some truth to what they said. Because the more they talked, the more he began to remember…

Shockwave held up the gun he was working on, tilting it from side to side, then finally nodded as if satisfied. "That should do it. We can proceed with the operation."

"About fraggin' time," Rumble grumped. "What took ya so long?"

"Working with unfamiliar technology is always a delicate undertaking," Shockwave replied calmly. "If I put one circuit or chip out of place, the consequences could be dire." He made an adjustment of some kind to the gun's barrel. "But I am absolutely confident that this shall suit our purposes."

"Testing of device: requested," Soundwave demanded. "Ensure it will work properly."

"You have so little faith in my abilities?" asked Shockwave, flicking his headfins.

"Only interest in Megatron's safety," Soundwave replied.

Metronix slid to one side, wondering if he could jump off the table and run for it while the adults were talking. Soundwave noticed the move, and he placed a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.

"Stay," he ordered. "We are nearly ready."

"I wanna go home!" he insisted. "Let me go! Please!"

"This is for your own good, Megatron," Shockwave replied. "The procedure will be quick, perhaps even painless. Then you may do as you will."

"I'm not Megatron!" he cried. "Stop callin' me Megatron!"

Shockwave pinned his headfins back like an angry cat. "You are Megatron. You were once Megatron, and you will be Megatron again. Your current identity is built upon a lie, one that Optimus Prime has tried to force upon you to suit his own needs. You said you retain memories of before… think on them, and remember. The truth is in your CPU."

He shook his head, not wanting to remember. But despite himself he couldn't help but search his memory banks, finding bits and pieces and putting them together…

He saw himself, or someone who might have been him a long time ago, standing before an army, speaking bold words and stirring them to action. He shuddered at the image of himself, taller and fiercer, with a huge cannon fixed to his arm and a harsh angular crest blazing on his chest. The expression on the other "him's" face terrified him – cold, cruel, calculating, an unholy glee shining in his optics that made Metronix shake in terror.

Other memories began to crowd in, as if this were their cue to resurface. Himself in space, flying toward Earth… yelling at a red-and-white winged mech for what seemed to be no reason… shooting down a group of workers in a warehouse… fighting a towering red-and-blue mech whose face was all too familiar…

He whined and held his hands to his hed, shaking, wanting the bad thoughts to go away. He didn't want to be Megatron. He didn't want to be evil, to be the terrible mech that scared the Autobots and had driven Ironhide to pull a gun on Metronix. He didn't want to be what Shockwave and Soundwave wanted him to be. But the memories wouldn't leave him alone, flickering to life in his CPU like a video he couldn't pause or stop no matter how hard he tried.

"You remember," Shockwave noted, pleased. "Don't be afraid. This will all be over very soon." And he raised the gun, aiming it at Metronix's chest.

Panic flooded him as other memories flared to life – memories of Ironhide holding a pistol to his head, ready to offline him for the simple crime of looking too much like Megatron… no, of being Megatron. He screamed and tried to throw himself out of the line of fire, but Soundwave gripped his arms and held him tightly.

"Hold him still," Shockwave ordered. "Operation commencing in three-"

"Pull the trigger and I put a bolt through your cranial unit, Cyclops."

Shockwave froze, headfins pricking up in surprise. Soundwave glanced up and stiffened, and Metronix could feel his grip tighten in shock and anger. He couldn't help a shiver at that voice – somehow it sounded so familiar…

"How did you get in, Starscream?" Shockwave demanded.

"If you're going to keep a Seeker out, Shockwave, don't assign other Seekers to guard your doors," that high, raspy voice replied. "All fliers have answered to me for eons, and that's not going to change simply because you want it to."

"Do not interfere with this prodecure," Shockwave ordered coldly. "This must be done."

"I am the leader of the Decepticons," the voice countered, and the red-and-white mech of Metronix's memories stepped into view, holding an arm gun to Shockwave's head. "My word is law… nay, gospel. All Decepticons obey my orders or suffer the consequences. Now lower the immobilizer, and step away from the sparkling. And if I so much as see your finger twitch on the trigger I'll deactivate you where you stand."

Shockwave's headfins lay flat and his optic blazed bright gold in anger, but he slowly lowered the white gun and backed away.

"Much better." Starscream kept his gun pointed at the violet mech, but now his gaze rested on Metronix, making him shiver anew under his scrutiny. "So… this is what Megatron has been reduced to. How very adorable." He infused those last words with as much sarcasm as he could, a gloating grin on his faceplate.

Metronix shook his head frantically. "Not… not Megatron." The statement came out weak and shaky, and even his own CPU seemed to be denying it, the memories pounding in his head as if determined to not let him forget.

"Oh, that's right," Starscream laughed. "That soft-sparked Autobot leader is trying to raise you as his own. How pathetically noble of him. How futile as well."

"He is Megatron," Shockwave cut in. "He is the proper leader of the Decepticons. He only needs restored to his proper form. You do not know what you are doing, Starscream, meddling in affairs like this."

Metronix shook his head again, feeling anger begin to overtake his fear. The more Shockwave insisted he was Megatron, the more upset it made him feel. And even if the memories flooding his CPU were his, they felt as if they had happened to another mech in another lifetime, not to him. He wanted nothing more to do with that life, nothing more to do with hurting people and spreading fear and pain wherever he went.

He may have been Megatron once… but he didn't want to be Megatron any longer. He wanted to be Metronix, wanted to go back to the Ark and help Ratchet in the medbay, wrestle with the Dinobots, play action figures with Bumblebee or video games with the twins. He wanted to see Daddy again, and have him hug him and assure him everything would be okay. And he didn't care if these mechs wanted him to be something else – he was going to be what he wanted to be.

"Megatron: leader of Decepticons," Soundwave insisted. "Starscream: interloper. Stand aside. Let Megatron lead."

"Over my cold, rusting, smoking chassis," Starscream snarled. "I've come too far to give up my position now! And to a mewling sparkling, no less. No, there's only one thing to be done with this scraplet… the only kind thing to be done. And that is to put him out of his misery."

"Over OUR dead bodies!" Rumble shouted. "Ya ain't getting' Megatron!"

Starscream whipped his gun-arm around to aim at Rumble and his siblings. The three cassettes yowled in terror and scrambled for Soundwave, who opened a compartment on his chest and allowed them to climb inside for safety.

"Threatening cassettes: your last mistake," Soundwave said, his monotone voice somehow managing to sound even colder. His grip on Metronix loosened just a bit, enough that he thought he might be able to slip free…

"And I suppose you're going to teach me a lesson?" Starscream cackled. "I am Supreme Lord of the Decepticons and Cybertron, and none of you can hope to stop me now-"

Shockwave raised his left hand – or what would have been his left hand had it not been replaced by a gun barrel. Starscream was too quick, aiming a blow at Shockwave that sent him staggering. The white gun fell from his grip and clattered to the floor.

"You dare try to shoot your commander in the back, Shockwave?" Starscream snapped. "That will cost you dearly!"

"You're a fine one to talk, Starscream," Shockwave practically growled. "Perhaps it only serves you right that you face treachery at every turn, just as you betrayed Megatron at every available opportunity…"

Metronix decided he would never get a better chance at this, and with a lunge he pulled free of Soundwave's grasp and dove for the floor. The blue mech made a grab for him, but Metronix scrambled out of the way just in time and ran for the gun. Something hot and bright hit the floor just behind him with a horrific CRACK, leaving the smell of burning metal, but that only served to spur him faster.

"Stop him!" Starscream screeched. "Stop the brat!"

Metronix threw himself at the white gun, practically wrapping himself around it. It was only a fraction of the size of the cannon back at the armory, but it was still very heavy, and he could barely lift it enough to point it at the three mechs. He really didn't want to shoot them, even if they were evil and scary, but maybe he could just scare them a bit.

"Think you can take me, little brat?" Starscream scoffed, and raised his own arm gun. "You can hardly lift that pathetic weapon! See how far the mighty Megatron has fallen!"

"Watch out, he has the-" began Shockwave.

Metronix raised the gun a little higher, the fear blazing in his spark beginning to die down at last. "Not Megatron!" he screamed. "I'm Metronix!"

And he pulled the trigger.

* * *

><p>Prime thought he would never reach the lab at this rate. Every time he turned a corner, there was another group of drones to fight, or a couple of Seekers blocking his path. He tried to charge past them when he could, and agonized over every second wasted in fighting them when he couldn't. Behind him he could hear the shouts of the others as they struggled to catch up, and from the rising volume of their voices it sounded as if they were gaining on him. He kept running, not wanting Prowl to try to dissuade or delay him. Any hesitation now could cost him everything.<p>

The doors to the labs themselves were guarded by two of the notorious Seekers all Cybertron knew as Rainmakers – the chemists whose most deadly weapon was the acid rainstorms they were capable of producing. These two, a lavender mech he was unfamiliar with and a mottled green-and-brown mech infamously known as Acid Storm, brought their weapons to bear the moment they spotted Prime and fired. The lavender Seeker's shot went wide, but Acid Storm's blast grazed his side, leaving a smear of thick green fluid that began to bubble and sear the metal.

"Turn around and go back the way you came," the green mech ordered, scowling. "Or the next one gets you in the face…"

His voice trailed off as weapons clicked just behind Prime, safeties snapping off almost in unison. Acid Storm glowered at the Autobots rallying behind their leader, then slowly raised his hands in surrender. The other Seeker did likewise, a sheepish expression on his face.

"This is why I didn't want you charging in alone," said Prowl, keeping his rifle trained on the Seekers as he stepped forward. "You need backup for this."

"There wasn't time," Prime retorted, though privately he was glad for the tactician's arrival. "Open the doors. We've got to get-"

Before he could finish, the sounds of gunfire echoed from inside the labs, audible even through the heavy doors. There was the familiar blast of a Seeker's arm gun going off… and a series of high screeches that he had only heard once before…

The immobilizer. Someone had fired the immobilizer.

"METRONIX, NOOOO!" Prime fell to his knees, hands outstretched toward the door, a cry of anguish tearing from his vocalizer. Grief squeezed his spark until he thought it would crack in two. They were too late... Shockwave had fired the immobilizer, and Metronix was lost to him forever. He had lost the sparkling he had come to think of as his own son… and the pain of it was so great he wanted to die on the spot.

"Prime!" Bumblebee rushed to his side, a look of desperation on his face as if he wanted to do something to help but couldn't think what.

"Someone open the doors!" Prowl ordered. "Autobots, keep your weapons ready. We don't know what kind of condition Megatron'll be in, but assume he'll be angry and spoiling for a fight. Aim for the head and make it a clean shot."

"But Prowl…" Hound protested.

"Autobots, this has to be done." Prowl's voice was flat and dark, making it clear that he took no joy in what they were about to do either. "Ratchet, Bumblebee, stay with Prime and look after his injury – and don't let him do anything foolish." He moved to the door and reached out to open it.

Prime forced himself to offline his optics and turn his head away. Never mind that Megatron would be even more dangerous now, doubtless enraged by Prime's efforts to turn him into an Autobot and thirsting for vengeance at the humiliation of having been made a child against his will. He couldn't bear to watch them destroy his son…

A plaintive cry rang through the air the moment Prowl opened the doors to the lab.

"DAAADDYYYYYYYYYY!"

A small body impacted against his chest, and he onlined his optics to see Metronix – the sparkling, the little mech he had come to care for and even love as his own creation – clinging tightly to his chest, pressing against him as if trying to merge himself with Prime's chassis. For a moment he could only stare in disbelief. How did… but he had heard…

"Metronix…" He laid a hand on the little mech's back, and as if that touch were enough to confirm it he felt relief flood his spark. "You're safe…" He lifted the sparkling in his arms and held him close, his great body shaking with emotion. "You're safe… oh Primus…"

"Daddy, I'm sorry," Metronix whined. "I'm so sorry… I wanted to say goodbye to Ravage… I didn't know he'd lie to me…"

"Sshh, little one," he said soothingly, trying to rein in his emotions enough to calm Metronix down. "You're back with me, and you're safe. That's what's important." He gently pressed his helm to the sparkling's in a gesture of affection. "I thought I had lost you. I was so frightened."

Metronix sniffed loudly. "Daddy… I don't wanna be Megatron. They were tellin' me I HAD to be Megatron. But I wanna be Metronix. Don't wanna be evil…"

Anger roiled in his fuel tanks at what Metronix must have gone through at Shockwave's hands. He tried to put it aside for now, though. He could deal with the sadistic scientist later – at the moment he had a child to reassure.

"You don't have to be anything you don't want to be, little one," he said gently. "You choose who and what you are. You are only Megatron if you choose to be. And I know you're better than that."

Metronix sniffed again, then nodded. "Not Megatron… my name is Metronix." That seemed to be enough to comfort him, and he gave a deep sigh and flopped against Prime's shoulder. "Wanna go home."

"We'll go home," he promised. "Just give us a little time to finish taking care of things here."

"So this is the Metronix that's the cause of all the fuss?" asked Thundercracker, stepping up to Prime's side at that moment. "He's kinda… cute."

"Do we HAVE to change him back, TC?" Skywarp asked, a pleading note to his voice. "I mean, look at him… I've never seen him look so happy! Or so fraggin' cute…"

"Oh, for the love of Primus…" Thundercracker groaned. "You'd rather have Starscream leading the 'Cons just so you can keep Megatron a kid?"

The mention of Starscream brought Prime back to reality, and he tightened his grip on Metronix and rose to his feet. The other Autobots were already in action, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker forcing the Rainmakers to their knees and cuffing their hands behind their backs, Hound and Bluestreak at the door to the labs with guns drawn, ready to charge in should Prowl and Wheeljack need backup. There was no sound of a struggle in the labs themselves, however, and Prime wondered just what was going on in there.

"Prime, hold still," Ratchet grumbled. "I need to get this acid neutralized before it eats into your wiring."

"Hurry," Prime ordered. "I want to know what's going on in there."

They didn't have long to wait. After a minute that felt like an eternity, Wheeljack's voice drifted out of the lab, sounding unsure yet strangely amused.

"Um… Prime? Ya might wanna have a look at this."

Prime was all too familiar with that tone of voice from the engineer – it was the sort of tone normally reserved for an experiment gone horribly but hilariously wrong. He turned and handed Metronix to Ratchet. "Take care of him for me… I'm going in."

"Be careful," Ratchet advised.

Shockwave's laboratory was far different from Wheeljack and Perceptor's workshop – neatly organized as opposed to the eclectic chaos he was so used to from his own scientists, and with devices hanging from the walls whose purpose he could only guess at but that looked barbaric enough to turn his fuel tanks. One of the workbenches, in stark contrast with the rest of the lab, was in disarray, the tools and instruments on it scattered about as if someone had fallen against it. The immobilizer lay a few paces from the door, still humming as it powered down, and black blotches marred the floor, doubtless where Starscream had taken a few shots at Metronix before he had managed to escape.

Prowl and Wheeljack stood near a table in the center of the lab, gazing down at something as if not quite sure what to do about it. Prime moved up to join them, and they silently scooted to either side to give him an unobstructed view.

"Oh dear."

Sitting on the floor at their feet, staring up at them with wide, terrified optics, was a sparkling. Red and white with a dark helm and stubby wings poking from his shoulders, he gave Prime a single look before opening his mouth and giving a screechy wail of fear and distress. Despite his size and the typical rounded "sparkling" face, there was no mistaking who this mech was… or rather, who he had once been. Starscream, terror of Cybertron's skies, was a child again.

Just behind the tiny Seekerling, two other sparklings cowered under the table, clinging to each other as if for comfort. One was unmistakably Soundwave, despite his chunkier build and the missing mask and visor, leaving his wide scarlet optics and white face exposed. The other was difficult to identify at first glance – violet, with amber optics and pointed headfins that looked almost like elven ears. It took Prime a moment to realize that it was Shockwave, shrunken down and with a normal sparkling's face in place of his iconic single optic.

Prime looked up to make optic contact with Prowl… then threw back his head and laughed. "Well… this is an unexpected twist."

"I don't even have to ask what we're going to do with them, do I?" Prowl demanded, sounding exasperated.

"Most likely not," Prime replied. "Call Hound in and help him gather them up. We'll take them back with us when we go."

Prowl sighed, reaching up to rub the bridge of his olfactory sensor. "The Autobot Council is going to have a fit when they hear this."


	13. Chapter 13

Prime was waiting for a pause in Ultra Magnus' speech so he could get a word in edgewise when something nudged against his hand. He glanced over to find Jazz sliding a datapad into his line of sight, a smirk on the saboteur's faceplate. Passing notes during a Council meeting was rather unprofessional, but then, Jazz tended to get most of what he accomplished done by unprofessional means, so why should this be any different?

Keeping his gaze fixed on Magnus as if truly interested in what the other mech had to say, he drew the datapad closer and chanced a quick glance at what Jazz had typed.

_I swear, if we gave these guys Cybertron on a silver platter, with all the Decepticon top command's heads as garnish and a cherry on top, they'd still find a reason to complain that we did it wrong._

Prime almost snorted, which would have been rather bad given who was sitting in on this meeting, and simply slid the pad back. Well, at least Jazz had kept his snarky comment confined to typing instead of blurting it out loud.

It had been a week since Metronix's rescue… and the sudden disappearance of the entire Decepticon command element. Cybertron had fallen into chaos in that time, with various mechs claiming the right to rule the Decepticons and gathering their own armies to back them up. Onslaught, Razorclaw, and Astrotrain were the main contenders for the throne, each brutally trying to wrest control away from the others even as Cybertron fell back into the hands of the Autobots all around them, for they were spending more time fighting each other than maintaining their hold on the planet.

Not all the Decepticons were interested in following one of those three, however – many had elected to throw their lot in with the Autobots and switched sides, while others had left Cybertron entirely and departed for parts unknown to try their luck in the far reaches of the galaxy. One of Megatron's top generals, a fearsome mech known as Deszaras, had been among those, much to the surprise of Autobot and Decepticon alike, who had expected him to try to seize the throne for himself. Though no one was exactly complaining – if anything, having one of the most powerful and dangerous mechs under Megatron's command gone was considered a good thing by both sides.

Of Megatron's former troops on Earth, only the Combaticons had chosen to follow Onslaught, while only Blitzwing and Reflector had thrown their lot in with Astrotrain. Thundercracker, Skywarp, and the Constructicons had defected to the Autobots, and currently Prime was trying to help them settle in among their troops – no small task given that they had spent years fighting these same mechs on the battlefield, and despite everything old grudges tended to die hard. Thrust, Dirge, and Ramjet had joined one of the factions leaving Cybertron for good, a group of Seekers and Rainmakers led by Acid Storm, and the entire flight had last been seen making their way toward Junk. The Stunticons had simply taken off on their own, and last Prime had heard they were tearing up the streets on Earth, stirring up their own brand of chaos and preferring to live wild and free over calling any mech, Autobot or Decepticon, their superior. Prime had a feeling they would have to track them down and subdue them before too much time had passed, but that was a battle for another day.

At this moment, Prime had a much more difficult task to face… convincing the Autobot Council to let Metronix stay in his care, and to raise him and the other sparklings. A hasty Council meeting had been called on one of the Moonbases, and Prime had related the entire story to them and now awaited their decision. To say the news hadn't gone over well would be an understatement.

Of the Autobot Council Prime had been familiar with before the Ark's launch, only one remained alive to attend this meeting. Emirate Xaaron sat at the head of the council table, gleaming bright gold and silver in the lights of the council chamber, his expression stern as he listened to the proceedings. The rest of the council had been destroyed by Megatron vorns ago... and Prime was certain the Council, Xaaron in particular, wasn't going to let him forget that.

Other mechs had been called up over the vorns to serve places on the Council, and privately Prime thought the elders of the old Council would have rolled over in their tombs at some of the choices. No aged states-mechs or pompous senators here - these were warriors, mechs who had fought on the front lines, plotted strategy, and sought to retake their homeworld from Megatron's forces. Ultra Magnus sat on Xaaron's right, with Elita-1 on the Emirate's left, and Kup, Star Saber, and Dai Atlas filled in a few of the other seats on the Council.

Once a functional government was set into place on Cybertron, it was generally assumed that other Council members would be elected to fill the remaining gaps, though at times Prime wondered if a Council was really the best idea for their planet. After all, he thought with a touch of sarcasm, it had worked so well for them last time...

"And that," Ultra Magnus said in conclusion, "is precisely why I think this is a terrible idea."

Prime glanced up at Magnus, suddenly realizing his speech was over. "What idea?"

Magnus sighed. "Have you been listening to a word I say, Optimus?"

"To sum his speech up in blessedly few words," Star Saber put in, "we have no proof that the Decepticon commanders won't simply grow up to be themselves. It isn't as if their basic programming has changed, after all. For all we know, we could raise them to adulthood and they'll be the same mechs as before, and this whole mess will start all over again."

Prime shook his head. "I thought what I told you about Metronix would be proof enough. He has not only become a much gentler mechanism since his change, but he actively chose his new life over returning to his old one, even after memories of his time as Megatron returned. What more proof do you need?"

"He could be lying," Kup put in. "Puttin' on an act to fool us. Megatron's always been a crafty one."

Prime opened his mouth to protest, but Prowl nudged his foot under the table, and with a great effort he kept silent. He couldn't keep leaping to Metronix's defense, and he knew it. He had to present facts, not just protests.

"We may not have solid proof that raising the former Decepticons as Autobots will change them," Prowl stated, keeping a calm, logical tone that Prime hoped would appease the Council. "But we can speculate and compare. We know little about Megatron's first sparkling-hood, but what we do know – his origins as a miner, and being forced into the gladiatorial arena at a rather young age – indicates that he did not grow up in the best environment. If we were to look into the pasts of Starscream, Shockwave, and Soundwave, I'm sure we'd find similar stories, mechs who grew up in less than ideal circumstances and had to learn to be violent, ambitious, and ruthless in order to survive. In contrast, most Autobots grow up in fairly stable and safe conditions, and thus develop accordingly. If we were to give these mechs the opportunity to learn and grow in such an environment, we could, in a sense, change their fates."

Kup snorted. "The ol' Programming vs. Parenting debate. That's been argued over for vorns, and no one's come out with any sort of proof that lets one side trump the other."

"All the more reason to give us a chance," Prime replied. "If there is no proof that this will succeed, then there is no proof that it will fail either. And even if they were programmed to be fighters, I believe their upbringing had at least some role in shaping who they were before the immobilizer changed them. Can any of you argue that your pasts, your sparkling-hood or lack thereof, didn't shape you into what you are today?"

The mechs on the Council exchanged questioning looks, but none argued that point.

"Where are the sparklings now?" asked Elita-1, a faint glint to her optics. Prime knew she wanted to see Metronix for herself – in a way, he supposed she was Metronix's mother – but for now she was playing her role as a Council member. There would be time for introductions after the meeting… provided the Council didn't decide to do something drastic.

"Outside the room, being watched over by a few of our Autobots," Prime replied. "All ten of them."

"Ten?" Dai Atlas repeated, frowning. "I thought there were only four changed."

"Soundwave's cassettes were in his chest when he changed," Jazz pointed out, grinning with undisguised amusement.

Dai Atlas' optics widened as he realized what Jazz was implying. "Oh wow… sparkling cassettes? Is there even such a thing?"

"There is now," Prowl replied. "They are far smaller than the average sparkling, naturally, and seeing as most of them were young already before the change, they are roughly the same age as newbuilts now and spend most of their time in recharge. The medics are keeping a close optic on them to ensure their safety."

"Wow…" The tall warrior sat back in his chair, looking as if he was still trying to process what he'd been told. "I guess this has been a day for unprecedented events."

"Not entirely unprecedented, I suppose," Star Saber pointed out. "There are legends in the Cybertronian archives of mechanisms being regressed to their youth, or even to sparkling-hood. Granted, they are just legends, and none of them came about because of a botched invention… but there you have it."

"Any of those legends deal with the entire command element of the Decepticons being shrunk down to sparklings?" demanded Kup, arching an optic ridge.

"Not to my knowledge," Star Saber confessed. "But then, the keepers of the archives tended to be biased in favor of the Autobots. Pity. So much knowledge lost simply because of this schism between our races."

"A schism the Decepticons haven't exactly been eager to mend," Magnus reminded him.

Emirate Xaaron had been silent this entire time, hands folded across his chest and a thoughtful look on his faceplate. Of all the mechs present on the Council, Prime feared his reaction to this whole affair the most. Not only was he the senior member of the Council, his word respected enough among the rest of the Autobots that whatever he decided generally became the decision of the Council as a whole, but he was notorious for being ruthless in his choices, advocating a "zero tolerance" stance against the Decepticons. The fact that he had been the sole survivor of Megatron's massacre of the entire Council vorns ago probably had something to do with that… and Prime worried that Xaaron would judge Metronix for that act, and dismiss any other evidence out of hand.

The Emirate spoke up at last, leveling his amber gaze upon Prime. "This… immobilizer you speak of," he said, his voice low and deep. "Where is it now?"

"Back on Earth, under lock and keycard," Prime replied. "Until we have a better understanding of how it works, it's too dangerous to allow just anyone access to it."

Jazz fought to hide a chuckle at that. Once the surprise at what his immobilizer had wrought had worn off Wheeljack had proposed taking the device back to Earth and using it to sparkling-ify all of Megatron's troops. While the mental image of Wheeljack going aboard the Nemesis and coming back covered in sparklings had been amusing, Prowl had put his foot down and confiscated the immobilizer before anyone could put that plan into action.

"I see." Xaaron nodded once, as if satisfied. "And there is no way to reverse its function?"

"Shockwave attempted to do so before his… incident," Prowl replied. "As far as our scientists can figure, all he succeeded in doing was overriding the locks that kept everyone but Prime and Wheeljack from firing it, and widening its firing range so that a single blast covered a large area rather than targeting a single mech. I believe the second alteration was involuntary on his part, and largely what resulted in Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave being changed."

"Hmm." Xaaron's optic shutters lowered slightly as he considered. "Your medics seem convinced that there is no risk of Megatron turning back, correct?"

Prime nodded. "I can present you with their reports if that would satisfy you."

"No need," Xaaron replied, waving the offer away. "Understand, Optimus Prime, it is not the danger of Megatron turning back into his original self that concerns me – be it the effects of the immobilizer wearing off or him simply growing up to be his old self despite your rehabilitation efforts. It is his past that concerns me."

Prime frowned behind his mask. "I thought him returning to his old self didn't concern you."

"You do realize, Optimus, that this mechanism is responsible for terrible things," Xaaron went on, his voice level and every word carefully spoken to avoid any emotional inflections that might betray the Emirate's thoughts. "All four of these mechanisms – Megatron, Starscream, Soundwave, Shockwave – have wrought untold devastation not only upon Cybertron and the Autobots, but upon countless other worlds as well. They have left a legacy of oilshed and horror that cannot be erased. We cannot simply forget this and move on… we have to do something about it."

Even as blandly as Xaaron spoke, Prime would have been a fool to miss the implications in his words. He bristled, only intense self-control keeping him from leaping to his feet and yelling at the Emirate. "You would see innocent sparklings put on trial for the crimes of adults?"

"You must understand, Optimus, the Autobots are going to want some sort of closure to this terrible chapter in our history." Xaaron swiveled his gaze slowly about to make optic contact with every other mech on the Council. "Can you imagine the reaction should our people learn that the mechs responsible for the war are not only going unpunished, but being made Autobots themselves without so much as a slap on the wrist? Someone has to pay for Megatron's crimes… and seeing as Metronix, as you now call him, is beginning to recall what he was responsible for as an adult, it is difficult to claim he isn't the same mech anymore and cannot be responsible for Megatron's actions."

Jazz sputtered, obviously enraged by the Emirate's words, but Prowl kicked him under the table before he could launch a tirade.

"Be that as it may, Emirate," Prime replied in a hard voice, "I am not sparkless enough to demand a sparkling stand trial for an adult's crimes. Yes, Megatron did terrible things – I know this just as well as anyone else here, and perhaps better than some of you. Megatron has attempted to kill me countless times, and very nearly succeeded several times. He has conspired to have the Autobots banished from Earth, nearly destroyed both Earth and Cybertron several times, and much more. Slag, if I were to list all his crimes, we would be sitting here for the next orn. I am not ignorant as to what he and his lieutenants were responsible for, and for me to deny what they did would be to betray all that I stand for as a Prime."

Xaaron nodded once, as if pleased at what Prime had said, but did not reply.

"But from everything I and my scientists have seen, these young mechs are no longer the Decepticons they once were. Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave no longer have any memory of their lives before they were changed, and though Metronix's memory is returning, he has chosen to renounce that life and continue to live as Metronix rather than Megatron. They have been, as the humans would say, reborn in a sense, given a rare opportunity to start their lives over again. To force them to undergo punishment for the crimes of their former lives would be barbaric, and would serve no purpose… except to drive them further away from the Autobots, and back to their old lives as Decepticons."

Xaaron gave a slow blink of his optic shutters, silent a long moment as he processed Prime's words. "You would deny all the victims of the Decepticons' cruelty the justice they deserve?"

Prime narrowed his own optics and gave Xaaron a hard look. "Is it truly justice you want, Emirate Xaaron… or revenge? Because it sounds like the latter to me."

Magnus sputtered, as if stunned that Prime could have the gall to address the Emirate that bluntly.

"Your compassion will be your undoing, Optimus," Xaaron said, letting a bit of ice creep into his voice. "The Autobots will not react well to this… and you cannot expect them to accept Metronix and the other Decepticons among their numbers with open arms. It would be far simpler in the long run – and perhaps kinder to the sparklings themselves – to find a facility for them and keep them locked away for the remainder of their lives."

"Perhaps," Prime replied, "but I believe in doing the _right _thing, Emirate Xaaron, not the _easy _thing. It might be easier to let you and the Council have your 'justice,' as you call it, but it isn't right. Raising these former Decepticons, teaching them to have compassion and morals that they didn't have before, and helping them integrate themselves among our kind... I know it will be incredibly difficult. But it is the _right _thing to do."

Elita-1 nodded, smiling broadly. "Well said, Optimus."

"Hear, hear!" Dai Atlas cheered, clapping enthusiastically. Kup rolled his optics in disgust at the younger warrior, but Dai Atlas ignored him.

Xaaron gazed at Prime for a long moment, optics narrowed. Then he sat up straight, placing his hands on the table. "We have talked enough. Let us put it to a vote, then. Majority rules."

"All in favor of placing the former Decepticons in the care of Optimus Prime for rehabilitation?" Magnus asked.

Prime, Prowl, and Jazz all raised their hands. Elita-1 joined them, as did Dai Atlas and Star Saber. Had that won them the vote right there? Prime wasn't sure – even as a Prime, technically he wasn't part of the Council, and it was possible Xaaron wouldn't even count his vote.

"All opposed?" Magnus asked, putting his own hand up. Kup and Xaaron also raised their hands. If one was only counting Council members that made a tie, but otherwise…

"Very well," Xaaron sighed, "the sparklings will be entrusted to your care, Optimus Prime. But if they return to their old ways or Cybertron turns against them, let it be on your head."

"Understood, Xaaron," Prime replied, nodding. "And thank you."

The Emirate snorted. "Don't thank me. I do not agree with your methods, Optimus, but perhaps letting you live with the consequences is fair enough."

"If the 'consequences,' as you put it, are a peaceful Cybertron and the love of a sparkling who considers me his father, then I'm perfectly content to live with the consequences," Prime replied, beaming behind his mask. "Are we free to go now?"

Xaaron glared briefly, then sighed. "Meeting adjourned."

As the other Council members stood and made their way out, muttering amongst themselves, Elita went to join Prime, Prowl, and Jazz as they headed for the exit. "So does that make you the father of four now, Optimus?" she asked with a chuckle.

"Oh, I think one sparkling is quite enough to handle on top of all my other duties," Prime laughed. "We've already assigned caretakers to the others, in the event that the Council decided in our favor."

"Oh? Who are the lucky parents, then? Is Skyfire looking after Starscream?"

Prime shook his head. "Thundercracker and Skywarp will be raising him."

Elita stared at him, optics flickering in shock. "What?"

"Starscream's trine accompanied us while we were trying to rescue Metronix," Prime explained. "And when the Decepticon commanders were changed, Thundercracker and Skywarp were given the option of defecting to our side or becoming prisoners of war. They were rather quick to choose the first option… and they volunteered to raise Starscream together."

"Are you sure about this?" she asked. "Having two former Decepticons raise Starscream when the original goal was to raise the commanders as Autobots?"

"We questioned both Seekers at length, and we determined that their former affiliations will not be a problem," Prowl put in. "Thundercracker had been having doubts about the Decepticon cause for a long time, it seems, and only needed the proper motivation to switch sides. Skywarp will possibly be a little more trouble, as he has a mischievous streak, but we will deal with that."

"'Cause we all know there's NO way ANY Autobots could have mischievous streaks, right?" Jazz asked, one side of his visor darkening in a wink. "Just stick 'im with Sideswipe an' he'll fit in just fine."

Prowl groaned. "Assign those two together for any reason, Jazz, and I'll have your aft in a disciplinary hearing before you can so much as reboot your optics."

Elita had to chuckle at that. "Well… I trust your judgment, Prowl. Though I'd advise you to have Skyfire or Silverbolt keep an optic on them, just in case. I'd rather not have those two prove the Council right."

Prime nodded. Privately he thought that Thundercracker and Skywarp would do just fine in raising young Starscream, but he would certainly take her suggestion into consideration.

"What about the other two?" she asked. "Soundwave and Shockwave?"

"Perceptor will be looking after Shockwave," Prime replied. "As for Soundwave, Jazz has agreed to raise him."

Jazz beamed. "Daddy Jazz… I like th' sounda that."

"Good matches," Elita noted, nodding. "It sounds like you have the situation under control… despite all of Xaaron's complaints."

"Xaaron may be an experienced politician," Prime replied, "but too often I fear he lets his CPU override his spark. Too many of us have learned to become ruthless in this war, and thus have forgotten that it takes compassion to make a good leader as well. Maybe raising sparklings will help us relearn that trait." He led their group to a door down the hall from the conference room and keyed it open. "Would you like to meet the little ones, Elita?"

Her optics shone with anticipation. "I'd love to!"

Prime chuckled and led her inside. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were down on the floor, Sideswipe gently wrestling with Metronix while Sunstreaker helped Shockwave assemble a picture on a lightboard. Metronix was shrieking with laughter as Sideswipe lightly pinned him and proceeded to tickle his abdominal plate. Shockwave was remarkably quiet, face set in concentration as he pushed a colored peg into place on the lightboard.

"Having fun, children?" asked Prime.

"Loads," Sideswipe replied, letting Metronix up. "Aw, meeting's over already? We were having fun!"

"Daddy!" Metronix shouted, rushing forward to hug Prime around the legs. "You're back!"

Prime laughed and bent down to scoop the sparkling up. "I told you we wouldn't be too long, little one. Were you good for Uncle Sideswipe?"

"Yeah!"

"Good." He turned slightly, allowing Metronix to face Elita. "Metronix, this is Elita-1, leader of the femmes on Cybertron. And your adopted mother."

Metronix stared at her a moment, then turned to tuck his head against Prime, as if suddenly shy. He raised a hand to wave at her, however.

"Hello, little one," Elita cooed, holding a hand out to him. "I don't bite, I promise."

"Hi, Mom," Metronix replied softly, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "Comin' back to Earth with us?"

"I wish I could, but I'm needed here," she replied. "Very soon, though, my work here will be done and we can be together as a family. All three of us."

Metronix smiled. "Okay!"

Prime smiled himself, pleased that Metronix and Elita would get along just fine. Then he glanced around the room. "I see Metronix and Shockwave… where are the others?"

Sunstreaker pointed to a corner of the room. "They got tired, so they're taking a nap. Though how they can sleep through Sides being a loudmouth I have no idea."

Elita made a soft sound of wonder at the sight. Starscream was curled up on a pile of cushions in a corner of the room, his little wings twitching slightly as he dreamed. Soundwave nestled in against him, a little black cat curled up in his arms as he rested. At first Prime thought the cat must be a plush toy, but as he watched it opened scarlet optics and lifted its head, blinking sleepily at the adults.

"I thought the cassettes were staying with Ratchet," Prowl noted, sounding a little annoyed.

"Aw, he couldn't bear t' be separated from Ravage," Jazz protested. "He'll take good care of 'im, I promise."

The cassette-kitten seemed to decide the adults weren't interesting, and with a tiny mew he curled back up against Soundwave's chest and dozed off.

"I almost hate to disturb them," Prime noted, "but we have to return to Earth soon. And Omega Supreme doesn't like to be kept waiting."

Elita released Metronix's hand and squeezed Prime's shoulder. "Take care of yourself. And keep in touch. Let me know how Metronix is doing."

"I will. And I'll let him call you every once in awhile. I think it will be good for him to get to know you better." He shifted Metronix to one arm and rested his free hand on hers. "Until all are one."

"Until all are one," she replied, and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on the side of his helmet. Then she turned and walked out.

"Goin' home now?" Metronix asked.

"Yes, we're going home now," Prime replied, which was the truth as far as Metronix was concerned. Prime hoped the sparkling would come to recognize Cybertron as his home too… and soon, given that with the war drawing to an unexpected close, the Autobots would be returning to their homeworld before long. And he hoped the homeworld, in turn, would be ready to accept Metronix as himself, and not just as another version of Megatron.

* * *

><p>It was evening in the Ark's break room, and a simple stop for a refuel was threatening to turn into some unwanted drama.<p>

"Dad! Metronix just pushed me!"

"I did not!"

"Did too!"

"Did not!"

"You're lying!"

"Am not!"

"Oy!" Skywarp barked, reaching down to gently push Starscream to one side so he could sit between them at the table. "What have I told you about picking fights with the other kids, Screamer?"

Starscream tried to lean around Skywarp so he could glare at Metronix, but Skywarp leaned with him, blocking his view. With a sigh the little Seeker looked up at the taller mech. "Fighters have to go sit in the cool-down chair."

"And do you want to sit in the cool-down chair again?" Skywarp asked, raising an optic ridge.

"No."

"I thought not." He set an energon cube down in front of him. "Refuel and behave yourself, okay Screamer?"

Starscream nodded and drank. Metronix tried to lean forward so he could see Starscream around Skywarp's body, but Prime caught his optic and shook his head, warning him to mind his own business. The last thing he wanted was Metronix trying to bait the other sparkling into something.

It seemed some things didn't change even with the regression to sparkling-hood, Prime thought with both amusement and irritation. Even as a child, Starscream remained loud and shrill when he spoke, and he seemed eager to pick fights with Metronix. And Metronix, while normally good-natured, wasn't used to having other sparklings around and all too often fought back when Starscream picked on him. So far Prime or the Seekers had been able to intervene before things got physical, but Prime desperately hoped that their antics wouldn't evolve into another rivalry between them.

The Seekers seemed to be good matches as adoptive fathers to the sparkling, at least. Neither of them let Starscream get away with bad behavior, and were quick to reward him when he got along with the other sparklings. Skywarp had told Prime at one point that the acting out was mostly to get attention, and that if they could train him out of it, he'd find more productive ways to make a name for himself.

Thundercracker gave Starscream a long look, as if trying to decide if he wanted to claim the sparkling, then looked at Prime. "How did this not drive you crazy, sir?"

"I didn't have to put up with this the first few months," Prime replied, setting his energon cube down and rubbing at his temples. "Metronix was an only child, so to speak. It's going to take some time for him to get used to sharing space with other sparklings." He watched the little white Seeker scoot closer to Skywarp, and the black Seeker smile fondly and put an arm around him. "It looks like your wingmate has him well in hand, though."

"Never thought Skywarp to be the fatherly type," Thundercracker admitted. "But he's got more patience with the little guy than I do. Guess that's a good thing."

Prime nodded. "How are things faring for you, Thundercracker."

The blue Seeker shrugged. "Depends. You mean with me or the whole parenting deal?"

"Both."

"Well as can be expected on both counts, I guess." He took a drink from his own cube. "Still getting the cold shoulder from most of the Autobots, though we expected that. And Skyfire keeps sticking his nose in our business, asking if we're taking good care of the kid. Like he doesn't trust us."

"He considered Starscream a friend long ago," Prime replied. "No doubt he only wants to be sure he's being taken care of. If either you or Skywarp has any difficulties here, please don't hesitate to let me know. We'll do all we can to help you."

The blue Seeker gave Prime a weird look. "Why are you being so nice to us, sir? I mean… we're Decepticons. I used to take potshots at you for fun. Why care about us?"

"Because everyone deserves a second chance, Thundercracker," Prime replied. "Metronix is proof of that, even if his second chance came via unorthodox means. If we can forgive him his past and grant him another chance, we can do the same for you and Skywarp. Just make the best of this chance is all I ask of you."

Thundercracker processed that a moment, then smiled a little. "Thanks, sir."

"Daddy, I'm done," Starscream announced, pushing his cube away. "Can I go play now?"

"Not tonight," Thundercracker replied. "Remember, it's bath night."

"Awwwww," Starscream whined. "I'm not dirty!"

"Tell you what," Skywarp offered, grinning widely. "If you beat me to the washracks, you don't have to take a bath, but if I beat you there, you do it without complaining. That sound good?"

"Yeah!" Starscream leaped to his feet. "Beat you there!" And he took off running.

"Skywarp, I swear you are pure evil sometimes," Thundercracker noted, shaking his head.

"I said if I beat him there he takes his bath," Skywarp replied, smirking. "I never said it had to be a footrace." And he vanished in a flare of violet, no doubt teleporting to the washracks.

"I'd better go with him," Thundercracker sighed, pushing himself to his feet. "Make sure Starscream behaves himself for his bath. Talk to you later, sir."

"Take care of yourself," Prime advised as the blue Seeker walked off.

With Starscream and his caretakers gone and Metronix still occupied with his own energon cube, Prime took advantage of the moment to look around the break room. For the most part it was a normal, relaxing evening, mechs taking a few minutes to socialize and catch up on news and gossip as they refueled. At the next table over, Prowl and Ratchet were discussing a recent news report from Cybertron, while in the back of the room the Dinobots were hooting and cheering as Slag and Snarl arm-wrestled. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker were conferring in hushed tones at their table, and Prime made a mental note to find out just what they were plotting as soon as possible. Several of the minibots were playing an impromptu card game at their table, and Hound and Bluestreak were watching something on a handheld screen and laughing over it – probably a YouTube video or a cartoon, he guessed.

There were a few noticeable differences from the norm, however. In one corner a cluster of green and violet mechs were talking and drinking, trying to avoid notice from the other Autobots. The Constructicons had a bit of an easier time assimilating themselves among Prime's forces than the Seekers, seeing as they had once been Autobots themselves, but still, a lot of mechs couldn't forget that these beings had once wreaked untold destruction as Devastator. Prime hoped at least a few mechs would have the decency to try to befriend them… and vowed to do it himself if no one else would.

Even as that thought crossed his CPU, Hoist and Grapple approached the Constructicons' table, and after a quick greeting Hook and Scavenger moved aside to let them sit with them. Heartened by that sight, Prime let his gaze move to another table.

Jazz and Soundwave sat together at the same table as Prowl and Ratchet, bobbing their heads almost in unison as they listened to some sort of music together. Ravage, the only one of Soundwave's cassettes old and strong enough to leave the medbay, lay curled in Soundwave's arms, his movements slow and clumsy as an Earth kitten's. The blue sparkling seemed aware of how fragile the little one was and held him carefully, occasionally moving to stroke him between the ears.

Prime had to smile at the sight. Jazz and Soundwave had taken to one another as quickly and easily as if Jazz had been his true creator, and Soundwave followed in his footsteps as closely as Metronix did with Prime. Jazz had even taken to carrying the blue sparkling on his back, much as Prime used to do with Metronix. Soundwave remained quiet, rarely speaking unless spoken to first and preferring to read or play quietly over roughhousing with the other sparklings, but he was quickly developing a deep love of music that pleased his father to no end.

The rest of Soundwave's cassettes were still in Ratchet's care, seeing as the immobilizer had regressed them to the point where they were newbuilts. Like human infants, they spent most of their time resting, and required an adult's help to feed themselves. Jazz took Soundwave in to visit them every day, and already Soundwave seemed to be considering them his responsibility - he was at his most talkative after those visits, giving updates on their progress to anyone who would listen, and he enjoyed helping take care of them.

One table over from the Dinobots, Wheeljack and Perceptor were discussing the particulars of another experiment, passing datapads back and forth and comparing notes. Shockwave listened in, an intent expression on his face like an earnest student. Occasionally he ventured a question, and Perceptor would do his best to answer, though his excessive wordiness tended to confuse more than clarify and it would fall on Wheeljack to "translate" for the scientist.

Prime had only encountered Shockwave a few times before his change, and so only knew of his adult personality by reputation. Where the rumors had painted him as a sadistic scientist whose adherence to logic made Prowl look like Jazz in comparison, his sparkling self was bright and inquisitive, asking countless questions about how things worked and watching with fascination as Wheeljack assembled a device or Perceptor blended chemicals to test a hypothesis. He was always eager to help his adoptive father, and most mechs had encountered him running through the halls, on a mission to fetch some needed datapad or supply for Perceptor, more than once.

The Autobot leader leaned back in his seat, warmth suffusing his spark as the Matrix pulsed its approval at the sight. Let Xaaron have his doubts about the sparklings, and at the power of compassion and love to change a mech's path in life. Deep in his spark, he knew this was the right thing, and that these little ones would only benefit from growing up in a loving environment.

The sensors in the back of his neck prickled as he sensed someone standing behind him, and he turned to find Ironhide there, the red warrior's gaze sweeping the room much as Prime's had a moment ago. For a moment his CPU scrambled to understand why he was there… then he remembered that his time in the brig was up. Today had been the day of his release.

"Ironhide…" he began, wondering just how to explain everything to him.

"I know," Ironhide replied. "Prowl filled me in when he let me out." His gaze rested on Shockwave, who had just leaped out of his seat and was scurrying to follow Perceptor out of the break room. "So y'all won th' war while I was locked up."

Prime nodded. "Quite unexpectedly. But then, I think we all knew this war wouldn't be won by conventional means."

Ironhide nodded. "An' we got more sparklin's runnin' around th' base now."

He nodded again.

Ironhide regarded Prime, his expression stony. Prime braced himself for a tirade.

"Optimus Prime," he said at last, "you are fraggin' crazy." And to Prime's relief, he actually smiled.

"If caring for a sparkling makes me crazy, then I'll accept that." He looked over at Metronix, worried that Ironhide's presence would frighten him, but the sparkling looked more preoccupied with playing with Spotty at the moment. "You were right, Ironhide. I realized during the rescue that if he were to return to his old self, I couldn't fight him. I've come to think of him as my son, no matter what form he's in. I don't condone what you did... but your fears were justified."

Ironhide shook his head. "Well, Shocks didn't turn 'im back... that's th' important thing." He reached up to rub at the back of his helm. "Had a lot of time to think in th' brig... an' I still ain't sorry for tryin' to protect ya. But doin' what I did to th' kid... that was inexcusable. I'm sorry."

"You're forgiven," Prime replied, and to his surprise he realized he meant it. "As the humans would say, call it water under the bridge. Call it the past and move on."

Ironhide nodded. "Sounds good to me."

Metronix pushed his empty cube away at that moment. "Done, Daddy."

"Ready to go back to our room?" Prime asked. "We could watch a movie if you'd like."

He nodded. "_Treasure Planet!"_

"Good choice." Prime stood and scooped Metronix up in his arms. "Excuse us, Ironhide."

"Bah, get outta here," Ironhide ordered, though there was a definite hint of a smile in his voice. "We'll talk later."

Prime nodded and carried Metronix out of the break room, heading for their quarters. Having a base full of sparklings was going to take some getting used to for everyone. But he felt it would be worth it for everyone involved.


	14. Epilogue

_How quickly time passes, _Optimus Prime mused, gazing out the window of his office in Iacon. _And how much things change when we're not looking._

Repair work on one of the towers just outside his window was well underway, with both builder drones and Autobot workers laboring tirelessly to restore the building. It was somehow satisfying to see the tower come together, albeit slowly, a piece at a time, and to view the progress that had been made in the reconstruction each day. It satisfied Prime even more to see exactly who was working on the repairs – not just Autobot builders, but the Constructicons, each group working side by side and cooperating fully with the repairs. Hook even supervised the construction efforts, calling out orders and constantly referring to a holo-blueprint of the building to ensure everything was going according to plan.

The same scenario Prime saw out his window was being repeated in the streets of Cybertron wherever he went – Autobots and former Decepticons working together to heal and rebuild their shattered homeworld. After eons of civil war, Cybertronians were finally setting their differences aside, putting the welfare of their world ahead of their disagreements. It had taken a great deal of suffering and sacrifice to get this far, and there was still a long, hard road ahead before things were totally restored, but Prime had faith that they would see a whole, peaceful Cybertron before his functioning days were over.

Nothing was perfect, of course, and while the main war was over, Cybertron was not yet entirely peaceful. They had managed to put down Razorclaw's Predacon uprising, capturing the Predacon leader and imprisoning him, but there were still rogue Decepticon factions out there trying to retake Cybertron. And several Autobot groups were actively protesting Prime's efforts to help the former Decepticons integrate themselves into society, claiming that the only good Decepticon was an imprisoned or dead one. It would be a long while yet before things settled down for good, and some mechs harbored enough resentment toward one side or the other that they might never let go of their hate.

Such was the damage the war had inflicted, Prime thought. Some scars could never entirely be healed. But they would do their best to move on despite everything.

Prowl's voice pinged over his radio, interrupting his reverie. _Optimus, two scouts reporting from Tarn. They wish to speak to you directly._

_Are they who I think they are?_

_Most likely, _came the amused reply.

Prime chuckled softly. _Send them in._

The door to his office slid open, admitting two young mechs – already upgraded to adult form but in that fresh, slightly awkward stage humans would have called "teenagers." The first strode forward and saluted crisply, barely suppressing a satisfied smile. A white Seeker with scarlet and blue highlights, he was one of the top fliers in the Autobot Air Force and well on his way to becoming Air Commander. Ambitious and eager to prove himself, he was valued among the fliers for his intelligence and bravery, and Air Commander Silverbolt frequently relied on his advice and suggestions when planning missions or projects.

A far cry from his previous self, Prime couldn't help but think. Perhaps Skywarp had been right, and all Starscream had needed was a little guidance… not to mention a superior who took his suggestions seriously and truly listened to what he had to say instead of dismissing him as an idiot right away. Oh, he still had his lofty aspirations, making it no secret that he wanted to be Air Commander someday, but he seemed content to earn the position through his own merits rather than through treachery.

"Tarn sector of Cybertron clear, Prime sir," Starscream reported. "No sign of Decepticon rebel activity. Repairs progressing well, no sign of sabotage."

"Good," Prime noted, relaxing slightly in relief. "Very good to know on all counts." He wished he could have said the same for other sections of Cybertron, especially the Decepticon-controlled areas. Kaon was still on full lockdown after Onslaught and his team had been sighted there, and an Autobot resistance group was actively sabotaging repair efforts in Polyhex. Prime took both threats very seriously – he had no desire to see a rogue faction of Decepticons reignite the war, nor did he condone Autobots trying to keep the feud between their factions going.

"Anything else?" he asked the young Seeker.

"Negative, sir," Starscream replied, "except that preparations for the Games are well underway."

"Also good." One of the first things Thundercracker had requested once their forces had returned to Cybertron was that the Cybertron Air and Track Games, a ceremonial competition similar to the humans' Olympics, be re-established. Said Games were scheduled to take place in a decacycle's time, and it was Prime's hope that the friendly competition and emphasis on unity the Games provided would help further mend the Cybertronians' spirits.

"If there's nothing else, Starscream, you're dismissed," Prime told the young Seeker. "Thank you. You've been a great help to our cause."

Starscream beamed at the compliment and turned to go, leaving the other scout with Prime. This mech was bulkier in build than Starscream, but not overly so, with silver armor accented with black and red. Twin blades, part of his helicopter alt mod but also detachable to serve as swords, hung from his back, and a third blade hung from a sheath at his hip. He shifted on his feet a bit, as if nervous in Prime's presence.

"You're free to sit down," Prime told him. "You can relax and be at ease here. You know that."

The mech shook his head. "You're my superior now, sir. That'd be inappropriate."

"I suppose, in a sense, I've been your superior for a long time," Prime acknowledged. "But we're in private now. There's no need for formalities… including calling me 'sir.' You can call me what you're used to calling me."

He smiled a bit at that. "All right, Dad."

Prime smiled back, knowing his mask hid the expression but hoping his optics conveyed some of it. Metronix had made him so proud over the past two vorns. Despite so many doubts and fears from the Autobots in general, he had grown into a fine young mech, and by the time his upgrade had come due, most of Cybertron was perfectly willing to accept him as an Autobot in his own right, and not as just another version of Megatron.

It had helped, of course, that when the time had come for his upgrade both Prime and Metronix had decided that it would just cause too many problems for him to return to either of his original alt modes. Both his Cybertronian tank mode and his Earth rifle mode were too infamous among the Autobots in general, and Metronix wanted to make every effort to distance himself from his former life. He had briefly toyed with becoming a jet – earning some good-natured teasing from Starscream, who'd joked that he could end up as Metronix's superior if he chose that alt mode – but in the end he had settled for a helicopter mode.

Prime didn't return to his desk but instead motioned for Metronix to join him at the window. Together they gazed out at the Cybertronian skyline, watching as the sun set and the lights of the cityscape began to come on. Foot and vehicle traffic filled the streets as mechs returned to their homes after a long day's work, and floating spots of color marked where fliers were making their way home as well. From his vantage point Prime could pick out new buildings, as well as the shells of bombed-out buildings that still needed repaired or replaced… though thankfully there were far fewer of the latter anymore.

"How are you faring, Metronix?" Prime asked at last. "Still able to juggle your responsibilities in the archives with your patrols?"

Metronix had to smile at that. "Patrol isn't that hard. And even if it was, I don't want to give it up. I want to do my part to help out."

"Your work in the archives helps the Autobots as well," Prime reminded him. "Kup tells me you've done a phenomenal job of helping us organize our records, and ensuring the Decepticon history is preserved and integrated into the archives."

"That's not exactly hard either," Metronix pointed out. "The hardest part is remembering not to read on the job. I keep coming across datapads that look interesting and getting distracted."

Prime had to chuckle at that. Who would have thought that the mech formerly known as Megatron would end up a bibliophile? Already his work in the archives was catching the notice of many of the archivists and storytellers, Kup included, and there was talk of making him an archivist himself. Prime had always known him to be exceptionally intelligent, even if he had his quirks, but to see him use that intelligence for peaceful purposes rather than war was rather gratifying.

"Are you getting along well with the others?"

"For the most part. Still getting some rotten looks from a few of the 'Bots. Starscream keeps suggesting we just carry them up to tower height and drop them, but I doubt that's going to help."

"It sounds like Thundercracker needs a word with him," Prime sighed.

"I'm pretty sure he's just joking," Metronix assured him, smiling a bit.

"If you're certain," Prime replied. Metronix would know if the white Seeker was kidding better than he would. Another surprise and irony in Metronix's life – after their initial period of bickering and jostling for attention as sparklings, the two mechs had become close friends. Metronix's mellow nature made an interesting foil for Starscream's ambition and enthusiasm, but one was rarely seen without the other, and they laughed and joked together as if they hadn't spent millions of years trying to kill each other in another life.

How far those two had come in such a short time… and how much had changed.

Metronix shifted slightly, frowning as if trying to decide how to phrase his next words. Prime caught the movement and frowned himself, wondering what was troubling the young mech.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Metronix hesitated, then spoke. "Dad… I've been looking through some of the records on the war. Some of the things I did… or that Megatron did, I guess…" He rubbed absently at his right arm. "I remember some of the things that happened, but it feels disconnected from me somehow. Like it happened to someone else entirely."

"That's the best way to think about it, Metronix," Prime assured him. "You are not Megatron – you chose to renounce him and live a new life. I am sorry you must carry his memories with you."

"It's not your fault," Metronix replied. "It's something I just deal with, I guess. But what I've been reading in the archives has made me think on it a little more."

Prime waited for him to continue, concerned. Whatever this was, if it involved his past…

"I guess what I'm trying to ask is… why? When you found me as a sparkling, knowing full well who I used to be and what'd I'd done… why'd you take me in? We were enemies… and I don't know what I – what Megatron would have done if it had been you instead of him."

Prime reached over and rested his arm on Metronix's, squeezing lightly. "Because I knew this would be a chance for you to start over. To live a new life, a good life. I thought that by raising you as one of us and giving you the loving family Megatron never had, I could help you become a better mech. It was the best way I could see to end the war without further oilshed."

"But you could have just gotten rid of me then and been done with it," Metronix protested. "Not that I want that to have happened… but Ironhide says there were Autobots who wanted to get rid of me at the time. Why didn't you? That would have been easier…"

"Easier… but not right. Raising you as an Autobot was a challenge in its own right – raising a sparkling always is. But it was the right thing to do." He moved his hand to Metronix's shoulder. "And had I done that, I would have never had the pleasure of calling you my son. There are many things in my life I wish I'd done differently… but I do not, and will never, regret raising you as my son."

Metronix managed a smile. "I made life pretty difficult for you, didn't I?"

"Oh, you did," Prime admitted with a chuckle. "Red Alert was furious when he found out you were staying on the Ark."

Metronix laughed at that. "I remember hiding under the conference table and grabbing his feet. And giving the snake to Ratchet… and Starscream and I switching Tracks' wax for glue."

Prime groaned a bit as he remembered that last fiasco – Tracks had flown into a rage, and both sparklings had spent hours hiding from him. Though one good thing had come out of that incident – it had been the turning point in the sparklings' relationship, and marked the point where they had stopped fighting and started considering each other friends. That, he couldn't exactly complain about.

"You've had a good sparkling-hood, Metronix," Prime replied. "You've made me proud to call you son. And I'm confident you'll continue to make me proud of you, and make a good name for yourself among the Autobots."

Metronix smiled, a bit bashful at the compliments. "Thanks… and for what it's worth, I'm proud to call you my father."

A flood of pride filled Prime's spark at those words. Those words meant a great deal to him – far more than any honor or compliment paid him by any other Autobot.

Another chime on his radio interrupted their conversation – not Prowl this time, but a younger, pleasantly accented voice. _Am I interrupting something?_

_Not at all, Shockwave. Come in._

The door to his office opened to admit the violet mech. Like Megatron, Shockwave had opted to forego his old life's gun mode when choosing an alt mode, and he now bore the thick treads of a tank mode on his legs as well as a cannon on one arm. He still had the pointed headfins of before, but instead of the eerie single optic typical of his former life he had a normal mech's face, with amber optics constantly covered by a clear protective visor that gave him the look of an earnest scholar. He carried several datapads under one arm, and he had to stoop to pick up a few more that he'd dropped on the way in.

"Reporting on your father's latest projects?" Prime asked, chuckling and going over to help him.

"Oh yes, Father's work is never done," Shockwave replied. "There's been some exciting new developments – and he thinks that we'll be able to establish a permanent space bridge between Earth and Cybertron before the end of the cycle!"

"That's wonderful news!" Metronix exclaimed, grinning brightly. "Has he put you in charge of that project?"

"Oh no, not yet," Shockwave replied. "I'm more interested in the six-changer project, to be honest. That's looking very promising too." He deposited his armload of datapads on Prime's desk. "Ready for your inspection, Prime sir."

Prime had to smile at the young scientist-in-training, marveling at how far he had come as well. The sadistic scientist and commander of the past was gone, replaced by a bright and inquisitive young mech who was constantly fascinated by how things worked, and how science could be utilized to improve their lives and homeworld. At the moment he was simply an assistant in Perceptor's laboratory, but Perceptor had reported that he was considering trusting him with a major project very soon. Prime looked forward to seeing what kind of scientist Shockwave would prove to be in his second incarnation.

"Thank you, Shockwave," Prime told him. "You've been very helpful. Do you have any other duties you need to take care of today?"

"Not exactly," Shockwave replied, "but I did want to get some reading done tonight – Metronix found an absolutely riveting volume in the archives about subatomic particles that I wanted to look over…"

"Would you be willing to delay your studies for one night?" Prime asked. "Because I was considering inviting you and your father to join us for drinks at the Dancetron tonight."

"Oh! That sounds wonderful! I haven't been there to see Soundwave in a long time! If I can pull Father away from his work long enough for that…"

Prime chuckled a bit at that. Of the four former Decepticon commanders, Soundwave seemed to have changed the most from his old self. No longer the near-silent, enigmatic henchman to Megatron, his second sparkling-hood under Jazz's care had transformed him to a friendly, open mech with a deep love of music and dance. Though he had kept his original alt mode of a tape deck, he no longer wore the mask of his former self, though he kept the visor on the grounds that it made him "look cooler" and more like his father. Now he operated Iacon's most popular nightclub, the Dancetron, acting as DJ while Rumble and Frenzy staffed the bar and Ravage, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, and Ratbat served as security.

Some might have considered that a serious step down from his former life… but Jazz couldn't have been prouder of him had he turned out to be next in line to bear the Matrix. He was simply ecstatic that Soundwave was as passionate about music as he was, and that he wanted to put his energies to creative use rather than destructive.

"Dad, mind if I ask Starscream to join us too?" Metronix asked. "Seeing as we're sort of getting the gang together tonight, I'd hate for him to be left out."

"That's perfectly fine," Prime replied. "Give him a call. I'll see if Elita's free to go, then we'll meet outside and go together."

"Sure thing."

Prime patted Metronix's shoulder one last time, then turned to go. Elita was being kept busy these days, helping mechs who had fled the planet to escape the war find new homes and get settled, and she didn't get as much time to visit with Prime and Metronix as she would have liked. But hopefully she could find time in her schedule tonight.

_If only Xaaron could see us now, _he thought as he paused outside the door of his office, reflecting a bit. The Emirate had long since retired from the Council, and anymore seldom left his estate on the other side of Cybertron, preferring his solitude. Prime had a feeling that he would have been somewhat irritated to know that not only was Metronix defying his past to become an exemplary Autobot, but that he was being accepted for what he was by his fellow Autobots, rather than rejected for his past.

_You warned me that I would have to accept the consequences of my decision, Emirate Xaaron, _Prime thought. _I think said consequences turned out to be far more positive than you thought they would be._

With a soft sigh he continued down the corridor, heading for Elita's office. The past few vorns had been a time of great change for the planet… and for his life. It had been difficult, adjusting to a peaceful Cybertron and helping Metronix find his place among the Autobots. And he would not deny that there had been hard times, and that there had been days when he'd simply wanted to give up and stop trying. But he hadn't lived as long as he had without learning that nothing worthwhile came without a struggle. And in the end, it had all been worth it.


	15. One-Shot: Cassettes

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I still have ideas floating around in my head for the _Lost and Found_ universe, but none that could provide enough inspiration for a full-fledged multi-chapter story. So I've decided to continue the story via one-shots, which will show more of the antics of the sparkling-ified Decepticons and show how they're fitting in among the Autobots. Enjoy.

First vignette is dedicated to the cassettes - they didn't get much attention in the main fic, so I figured it was only fair that I give them their own one-shot. Shameless cuteness!

* * *

><p>When Ratchet had accepted the position as Optimus Prime's chief medical officer, he had been given a set list of duties – mainly maintaining the repair bay, keeping his troops in fighting condition, and training and overseeing the other medics under his command. Over time, however, that list of duties had expanded, and a great many tasks that weren't technically under his jurisdiction had somehow become his responsibility as well. When he wasn't saving a mech's life, inventorying a store room, or training First Aid or Hoist in some new procedure, he was serving as a disciplinary force to Jazz or the Lamborghini twins, as a sort of parental figure to the Dinobots, as a therapist for mechs who needed to vent their troubles or frustrations, and as a mediator (or, as it more often felt, a referee) during officer meetings, trying to be the voice of reason when the mechs in charge couldn't come to an agreement. He supposed the wide variety of tasks that had fallen on his shoulders at least ensured he wouldn't be bored, though it often left him tearing the paint off his own helm in frustration by the end of every day.<p>

This new duty, however, was an entirely new an unexpected one – that of a caretaker and babysitter.

He tried his best to give the little mechs on his examination table an irritated glower. The last thing he needed was yet another task dumped on him, and yet apparently Prime had decided that he was the mech best suited to taking care of Soundwave's age-regressed cassettes until they were old enough to fend for themselves. On a purely logical level he could agree with his commander on that count – he WAS the Autobot best trained in these matters. And the cassettes were newbuilts now, extremely delicate and needing a medic's watchful optic until their sparks had matured more fully.

That didn't mean he had to like it, of course. Especially when all six of the little brats were demanding a feeding at the same time.

"How did I get saddled with you lot?" he demanded, glaring at the two who were currently on the table.

Buzzsaw and Laserbeak quieted long enough to stare at him with wide optics, as if trying to compute what he was saying, then resumed their plaintive cheeping. The cassette-lings had been small before, but now they were tiny enough that he could have cupped both of them in one hand. Before they had looked like birds of prey, sleek and angular and deadly, but their regression had softened the sharp edges, making them look more like chicks than anything else.

Ratchet kept glowering, willing himself to stay annoyed, but despite all his efforts he found himself thawing toward them. Primus, he was getting soft in his old age.

"Soundwave, are you paying attention?"

The blue sparkling nodded from his perch on a stool at Ratchet's side. "Yeah."

"Good, because this is going to be part of your responsibilities from now on," he replied. "There are going to be times I won't be available to do this, so you'll need to take care of these guys. Got it?"

He nodded.

"All right, the first thing you need to do every day is feed these little buggers," he explained, pulling out an energon cube and a syringe. "Their systems aren't strong enough to handle a big dose of energy at a time, so you'll need to feed them a little at a time. Too much and they'll get sick. Understand?"

"Uh-huh."

Despite himself, he smiled. "Wish certain other mechs listened as well as you. Ready to help me?"

"Uh-huh."

Ratchet handed him the syringe, then showed him how to carefully draw a measure of energon into it. Surprisingly, it had been a challenge securing low-grade energon for the sparklings – it was fairly easy to concentrate energy into high-grade, but difficult to dilute it safely. But Ratchet didn't dare give the cassettes regular energon, for fear it would damage their delicate systems beyond repair.

Once Soundwave had the syringe ready, Ratchet turned to the cassette-chicks. He carefully scooped the little birds up in his hands, setting them before Soundwave. The chicks spotted the full syringe and immediately started a ruckus, peeping frantically, flapping their wings clumsily, stretching their necks and opening their mouths toward the sparkling.

"Just a little bit at a time," Ratchet cautioned. "Think you got it?"

"I got it," Soundwave insisted, and held the syringe over Laserbeak's open beak. He held it as steady as he could, setting his face in concentration, then squirted a bit of energon into the chick's mouth. Laserbeak snapped his beak shut, swallowing, then opened it again and began peeping as eagerly as before.

"Move on to Buzzsaw before you feed him again," Ratchet advised. "Make sure they each get their share."

"'Kay," Soundwave replied, and squeezed a little energon into the gold chick's mouth. While Buzzsaw swallowed that beakful, Soundwave fed Laserbeak again, then moved back to Buzzsaw. Ratchet nodded approvingly as he watched. It seemed Soundwave had this task well in hand, and while it wouldn't relieve the medic of all responsibility over the chicks, it meant there was one more task he could cross off his list.

Soundwave was about to feed Buzzsaw again when Laserbeak shoved his nestmate aside, chirping urgently to be fed. Buzzsaw fell over on his side, kicking his tiny feet, but seemed more resigned than upset with the push. Soundwave looked up at Ratchet, as if unsure what to do now.

"Hey there!" Ratchet scolded, putting a hand out to push the red chick away from his brother. "Don't let him get away with that sort of behavior. Don't hurt him, but don't give in when he demands more than his share or is rough with his brother, okay?"

"Okay," Soundwave replied, and reached out to carefully lift Buzzsaw to his feet again before resuming the feeding.

Ratchet kept his hand in place as a barrier until he was sure Buzzsaw had his fair share, then pulled it back and let Laserbeak have his turn. It seemed some of Soundwave's personality traits from before remained even as a sparkling. He was still quiet, even shy, and didn't talk much unless someone spoke to him first. And he was still protective of his cassettes, popping into the medbay frequently to check on them and ask Ratchet how they were doing. The medical officer had even caught him trying to smuggle one or more of them out in his chest compartment, an action that might have been adorable had the cassette-lings not been so delicate that such a move could have been dangerous. Only Ravage was old enough to leave the medbay safely.

A soft melody reached his audials, and he frowned, wondering if Jazz or Blaster had hijacked the PA system in order to play tunes. But the sound didn't seem to be coming from the intercom system, but from right beside him…

A laugh found its way out of his vocalizer. Soundwave was playing his cassettes a lullaby, trying to calm them as he fed them. He wondered if this was new behavior for him, or if even as an adult he'd played music for his creations to relax them. If the latter, then it was a softer side to the former communications officer, one that no one had ever seen.

Finally Soundwave set the empty syringe aside. "Done."

"Very good, Soundwave. Think you can carry them?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then pick them up – gently – and take them to the incubator, all right? Then we'll get ready to feed the next batch."

He nodded and carefully scooped the chicks up, cradling them against his chest as he slid down from the stool and headed for the other side of the medbay. Ratchet followed, watching as Soundwave made for the open incubator and set the cassette-lings inside. Buzzsaw immediately settled into the soft cloth that lined the incubator and fell offline, but Laserbeak toddled around on wobbly legs, seeming intent to explore every inch of his home before sleeping.

Before now, Ratchet had never considered that the cassette-birds could have separate personalities – he had always simply thought of them as annoying flying pests, fairly identical save for color. But now, working with them, he found that they weren't simply clones of each other. Laserbeak was by far the more outgoing of the two, bold and demanding attention, while Buzzsaw was quiet and withdrawn, preferring to sleep or hide. Ratchet and Soundwave were going to have to be careful not to let Laserbeak walk all over his brother and detract from his care.

Once he was sure the birds were settled in, Ratchet turned to the next group of sparklings. Rumble and Frenzy were curled up together in one corner of the incubator, each small enough to sit comfortably in the palm of his hand. Ratbat, meanwhile, clung to the side of the incubator, wings folded around himself like a blanket. Ratchet carefully detached his little claws and handed him to Soundwave, then scooped up Rumble and Frenzy and carried them to the examination table.

"You're in charge of Ratbat today," Ratchet told Soundwave. "I've got the cups prepared already, so all you have to do is feed him, all right? I'll handle the twins."

"Okay."

"You know you can say more to me than 'yes' and 'uh-huh' and 'okay,' right?"

"Yes."

Ratchet sighed. "Your dad's got to teach you to be a little more sociable. The bottles are on the counter. Make sure Ratbat gets the smaller one, all right?"

"Okay."

Rumble stirred, onlining his optics, as if the mention of energy had reminded him that his other primary purpose in life at the moment, besides recharging, was refueling. He didn't wail like a human baby, but the high keen of distress he uttered wasn't much different to Ratchet's audials. And the cry served to awaken Frenzy, who wasn't quite sure what was going on but set up keening as well simply because his brother was upset.

"Quiet, you two," Ratchet urged softly, holding them to his chest in the hopes that the rumble of his engine would soothe them. "Easy, your energy's coming…"

Soundwave handed him two of the cups Wheeljack had designed for feeding the sparklings – sealed containers with special lids, almost like the "sippy cups" meant for young human children. Ratchet shifted both cassette-lings to one hand so he could take them, and carefully situated the little mechs in his arms before giving each one his cup. Rumble immediately quieted down, wrapping his arms around the cup and drinking eagerly. Frenzy took a bit longer to calm down, but he eventually accepted his own cup and went quiet.

"There now," Ratchet said soothingly. "Better, you two?"

Rumble kicked his legs a little as if in answer, then resumed drinking.

Soundwave held Ratbat in the crook of his arm, holding the cup to his mouth like a human mother feeding a baby. The little bat had his wings up, trying to wrap them affectionately around Soundwave's hand as he drank. Both mechs looked so utterly content at the moment that Ratchet wished he had a holo-recorder on hand. If there were any Autobots who still thought the blue sparkling was dangerous, this sight would have convinced them otherwise.

Finally Rumble had emptied his cup, and with a satisfied coo he promptly let it fall from his grasp and curled up again, falling instantly into recharge. Frenzy took his time finishing off his own energon, as if savoring it, but consequently he ended up falling asleep before he was finished, causing a dribble of energon to trickle from the side of his mouth. Ratchet pulled the cup from his hands and wiped his faceplate carefully before carrying them back to the incubator to rest.

"Ratbat's done," Soundwave reported, holding up his hand. The cassette-ling had dug his claws into Soundwave's plating and now hung from his wrist, looking for all the world like he intended to remain there and nap.

"Silly little scraplet," Ratchet chuckled, reaching over to remove the bat from his arm. "I'll get him back to bed while you feed Ravage, all right?" He paused, frowning a moment. "You do know where Ravage is, right?"

"He's…" Soundwave's voice trailed off as he looked down at his side, then around the room. "He was right here."

Ratchet groaned in dismay and deposited Ratbat back in the incubator, where he latched onto the wall and fell right to sleep. "Help me find him. He couldn't have gotten too far… is the door shut?"

"No."

"Oh, Primus fraggit," Ratchet growled. "He could be anywhere by now!"

"Sorry," Soundwave whimpered, looking up at Ratchet with wide, sad optics. "I didn't mean to lose him!"

"No, Soundwave, please don't cry," Ratchet told him, trying to calm himself before Soundwave started crying. If Jazz found out he'd managed to upset his adopted son, there would be Pit to pay. "I'm sorry I growled, okay? Let's just focus on finding him before he gets into trouble. How does that sound?"

"Okay," Soundwave replied, sniffing. "What's 'fraggit' mean?"

"You're too young to know, and don't you dare repeat it to your father, all right?"

"Okay."

"You stay here and search the medbay. I"ll go look out in the halls."

"Okay." Soundwave wiped his optics before wandering the medbay, peering under every berth and table. "Ravage? Ravage, c'mere… here, Ravage…"

Ratchet left him to his search and stalked out into the halls, muttering to himself. There were a million places in this base where a cassette-kitten could hide – where in the Pit did this one go?

* * *

><p>If Ravage had retained any memories of his former life, he might have been a little more cautious about stalking this particular Autobot. As it was, his sheer size was enough to make him hesitate a moment… but only a moment. A burning desire to pounce and play overwhelmed any fear, and it was all he could do to keep his tail still as he hunkered down, kneading the ground with his paws and ready to pounce.<p>

Grimlock might have noticed the cassette-ling had he been paying attention, seeing as Ravage wasn't nearly as well-hidden as he liked to think he was. But the Dinobot leader was asleep, in his dinosaur mode and belly-down on the floor, a deep snore rumbling in his jaws. The other Dinobots were sprawled and splayed about the room in slumber as well, occasionally snorting or twitching a limb as they continued to wrestle and spar in their dreams. And curled up on Snarl's back, nestled between the dual rows of plates that ran down his spinal strut, was Metronix, also asleep and clutching Spotty close as he recharged.

Had Ravage stopped to consider, he might have realized that something about the silver sparkling seemed familiar, though he wouldn't have been able to place the memory in his databanks. At the moment, however, all he cared was that Metronix was asleep and, thus, unable to point him out to the Dinobots. So much the better.

Ravage watched the tip of Grimlock's tail switch back and forth, mesmerized by the movement. He crouched lower, his body tensing for the leap. How handy that these mechs came with their own built-in toys for him to play with. Maybe that was why Metronix liked them so much, though Ravage couldn't see how the silver sparkling could play very well, seeing as he wasn't built for pouncing.

Grimlock snorted, mumbled something about smashing Motormaster, and resumed snoring. His tail stilled briefly, giving Ravage the opening he needed. He tensed… sprang…

A bellow of rage echoed through the room as Grimlock awakened with a jolt, flinging his head back and baring his teeth in a savage roar. He lashed his tail, almost flinging Ravage off, but the cassette-kitten held on gamely, sinking his teeth and claws into the flailing limb.

"That HURT!" Grimlock howled, turning to glare at the cassette-ling. "You Ravage let go of me Grimlock! Me Grimlock KING, not chew toy!"

Ravage responded by clinging all the tighter, digging his claws in for all he was worth.

"Get off!" Grimlock roared, and lunged at the tip of his own tail. He couldn't seem to grab hold of it, however, and consequently was soon chasing his own tail in circles. Ravage gripped the tip of the Dinobot's tail as tightly as he could, terrified and yet strangely exhilarated at the same time. This was the most fun he'd had in ages!

"You Grimlock shut up!" Sludge grumbled. "Some of us trying to sleep here!"

"You Sludge shut up and help me Grimlock!" Grimlock bellowed back. "Get him cassette off me!"

The Brontosaurus shoved himself to his feet and made to head for Grimlock, but ended up stepping on Slag's tail in the process. Slag came awake with a yowl and rounded on Sludge, and soon the two were biting and kicking on the floor, waking up Snarl and Swoop in the process.

"What going on?" Swoop demanded, beating his wings in agitation. "Decepticons attack?"

"You Slag and you Sludge break it up!" roared Snarl, wading into the fray to try and separate the two combatants.

By this time the noise was great enough to awaken Metronix, who promptly began screaming. Ravage decided he'd had quite enough of this excitement and let go of Grimlock's tail, skittering away as soon as he hit the floor. And not a moment too soon – Optimus Prime burst into the room the moment he'd ducked into the shadows, followed closely by Wheeljack and Ironhide.

"What in tarnation…" began Ironhide.

"Daddy, help me!" Metronix cried, struggling to stay perched on Snarl's back. "They're gonna squish me!"

"Break it up now!" Prime barked. "Metronix, hold on, I'm coming!"

"Guys, knock it off!" Wheeljack shouted. "Slag, Sludge, cut it out! Grimlock, stop chasin' your tail and help me!"

"Me Grimlock gotta get stupid Ravage off first!"

"Ravage?" Ironhide scowled. "What're ya talkin' about? Ravage ain't even here!"

"Him Ravage right…" Grimlock's voice trailed off as he stared at the end of his tail, as if just realizing the cassette-kitten was no longer there. "Where him go?"

"Never mind that, help us break this fight up!"

Ravage took advantage of the chaos to slink out the open door. When he chanced a final glance back, he was relieved to notice that Prime had managed to snatch Metronix off Snarl's back and was carrying him away. Metronix, for his part, seemed to be recovering from the sudden scare remarkably quickly, and he actually giggled.

"Again!" he shouted. "Do it again!"

"You are NOT doing it again…" Prime admonished.

If Metronix had anything to say in response, Ravage didn't hear it – he took off at a scamper until the fighting and shouting had faded away behind him. Well, that had been more excitement than he'd bargained for. Now he just wanted fuel and a nap, and maybe a cuddle with Soundwave. He just hoped Soundwave wasn't mad at him for sneaking out…

He skidded to a halt with a high-pitched yowl as something came out from around a corner to block his path. For a moment he considered turning around and running back the way he'd come, but he really didn't want to face Prime and Grimlock at the moment. Instead he arched his back and uttered a hiss, hoping to scare the newcomer away.

Steeljaw just gazed down at the younger cassette-cat with a resigned expression. In his optics, Ravage's attempt at threatening him was about as menacing as a kitten trying to intimidate a lion. Which wasn't far off the mark, he supposed, given their body designs and ages.

_Shouldn't you be with Ratchet and Soundwave? _Steeljaw asked, cocking his head.

Ravage responded with another hiss.

_Oh dear, how scary, _he remarked, flicking his audials slightly. _Let me guess, you're the cause of all the fuss in the Dinobots' quarters._

Ravage laid his audials back and widened his optics, doing his best to look cute and innocent.

_I thought as much. _He bent down and gently grasped the cassette-ling by the back of the neck. _I'll get you back to your caretakers before Prime comes looking for you. It's the least I can do for a kitten, I suppose._

Ravage batted at Steeljaw's nose a bit, then sighed and hung limply as the cassette lion carried him down the corridor. A few mechs paused in what they were doing to stare, and a few even laughed. Had Ravage been older he would have been taking names for payback later, but now he just braced himself for whatever awaited him at Ratchet and Soundwave's hand.

"There you are! Where'd you find him, Steeljaw?"

_You don't want to know, _he replied, depositing the cassette-ling in Ratchet's outstretched hand. _He's unharmed, I can promise that much._

"Well, I'm glad you came across him," Ratchet replied, cupping Ravage to his chest. "Soundwave's been worried sick about him. And he's late for a feeding."

Steeljaw rumbled low in his chest, his version of a laugh. _Never imagined we'd be caring for Soundwave's cassettes instead of fighting them, did we?_

"If it means no more putting up with homicidal sneaks in the ventilation system, I'm all for it," said Ratchet.

Ravage looked up into Ratchet's optics and meowed questioningly.

"Heh… maybe we'd better finish this conversation another day, when little audials aren't present," Ratchet chuckled. "I'd better get this one back to the medbay. He's had enough excitement for a day."

_Good luck, _Steeljaw told him, and loped off.

Ratchet scowled down at the cassette in his hand. "What am I gonna do with you?"

Ravage meowed again, then began to purr softly.

"Don't start that with me," Ratchet ordered, trying to sound stern as he walked back to the medbay. "I'm not going to start thinking you little buggers are cute. Because then you'll be thinking of me as family and then I'll never be rid of you… Soundwave?"

"Ravage!" The blue sparkling hurried down the hall, hands outstretched and an ecstatic smile on his faceplate. "You found Ravage!"

"Steeljaw did," Ratchet corrected. "You can thank him later, all right? For now this little one needs to refuel and recharge."

Ravage meowed happily and hopped into Soundwave's arms, curling up instantly and purring loudly. Soundwave hugged him close, letting a burst of happy music play from his speakers, then settled him in his arms and set off for the medbay. The cassette-kitten tucked his head under the sparkling's chin and gave a contented sigh before drifting off into recharge, continuing to purr even in his sleep.

Ratchet trailed a few steps behind the duo, unable to hide a slight smile of his own. These cassette-lings were going to run him ragged before they were mature enough to upgrade. And if they were the slightest bit like their previous selves, they'd be even more of handfuls than the twins could ever be. But sights like this made him think it would all be worth the trouble.


	16. One-Shot: Stunticons

"We now bring you live to the scene of the accident on I-84, where over twenty cars were involved in what can only be described as one of the most bizarre hit-and-run sprees in recent memory. Authorities have not given all the details, but they do say that it's incredibly fortunate that no one was killed. However, at least thirty people were injured, with twelve said to be hospitalized in serious condition…"

"Shut it off," groaned Prime, averting his optics from the screen.

Spike reached over and turned the television set off before looking up at the Autobot leader. "Were any of the Autobots hurt?"

"No," Prime replied, "but that hardly makes it better." He rose from his knees and moved to sit in one of the rec room's chairs, sighing gustily. "People are hurt, Spike… because the Autobots weren't able to protect them."

"You can't be everywhere, Prime sir," Spike pointed out. "You didn't know this was going to happen."

"We knew the Stunticons were still out there," he countered. "And we knew they wouldn't just go into hiding or quietly assimilate themselves into society. They were created to spread chaos and destruction, and even without Megatron around to give them orders they're going to continue to do exactly that. And they don't care if humans get hurt in the process."

Spike bit his lip, wishing he could say something to help. He and Bumblebee hadn't been there when the Stunticons had gone tearing up the freeway, ramming cars off the road and blasting craters in the asphalt, but he'd heard and seen enough on the news to wish he could have been there to do something. By the time any of the Autobots had gotten there, though, the Stunticons had finished their twisted game and taken off, leaving Prime and the others to simply try to clean up after them.

"Hoist and the Constructicons'll have the freeway cleared and repaired," Spike told him. "And thanks to Ratchet and First Aid we were able to get everyone to the hospital in time. Things'll work out."

"That doesn't change the fact that this happened," Prime insisted. "We can't just keep cleaning up the Stunticons' messes – we have to do something to stop them."

"Can't you capture them?" asked Spike. "We did that once before."

"They escaped," Prime pointed out. "And even if we were to keep them incarcerated, what do we do with them? Ship them back to Cybertron to be executed by the Council?"

"Hey, maybe they won't execute them," Spike suggested, trying to sound positive. "Maybe they'll just serve some prison time."

Prime gave him a skeptical look. "The Council is not known for being sympathetic to known Decepticons." He touched his chin thoughtfully. "We could take them in here, perhaps, and try to reform them… they may be destructive, but there has to be something worth saving in them. They have to have some good qualities."

"Good luck with that," Ironhide snorted, coming into the rec room at that moment. "Those lil' fraggers were made to be stupid punks. Crazy, murderous good-for-nothin' wastes of good metal."

Prime gave Ironhide a hard look. "Didn't you used to say that about certain other mechs? Like the twins?"

"Yeah, but those two ain't a whole lot better. Only difference 'tween them an' th' Stunts is that they weren't MADE to be nuts. They just turned out that way."

"Just turned out that way…" Prime went silent, musing over what Ironhide had just said.

Spike was about to ask what was on Prime's mind when two small mechs came charging into the room, howling at the tops of their vocalizers and swinging bars of painted metal at each other. One, silver and wearing a black sheet around his neck like a cape, carried a red bar and was trying to pitch his voice an octave deeper than it was meant to go. The other, red and white and carrying a blue bar, shrieked back but kept giggling throughout what was obviously supposed to be a very serious moment.

"Join the dark side!" Metronix bellowed, swinging his "lightsaber" at his foe's head.

"Never!" Starscream shouted back, batting Metronix's weapon aside. "You killed my father!"

"No, Luke, I am your father!" Metronix retorted.

"That's not true!"

"Search your feelings, you know it to be true!"

"Oh for the love of…" muttered Ironhide, and he reached down to grab both sparklings and force them apart. "Stop fightin'! You're gonna break someone's optic with those!"

"Aw, c'mon Ironhide, they're just playing," Spike laughed. "What's the harm in it?"

"Dented shins is what," Ironhide muttered. "They've been doin' this ever since Jazz had th' bright idea to show all the sparklin's those blasted movies."

"I'm Luke Skywalker!" Starscream declared, waving his toy lightsaber around. "I gotta go rescue the Princess!"

"Who's playing Princess Leia?" asked Spike with a laugh. "Did you glue cinnamon buns to Shockwave's helmet or something?"

Starscream gave Spike an incredulous look. "How'd you know?"

"C'mon, Starscream, we're in the middle of the good part!" Megatron insisted. "Where I get to chop off your hand!"

"Nobody's going to be chopping off anyone's hands," Prime said sternly.

"We weren't REALLY gonna cut it off," Starscream insisted.

"Nevertheless, you two need to find something quieter to play," Prime replied. "And find something softer to use than metal bars for your lightsabers."

"'Kay, Daddy," Metronix replied, sounding a little put out. Then his mood brightened. "Starscream, let's go play Rock Band."

"Yeah!"

Spike laughed as the two sparklings dropped their lightsabers and bolted for the large viewscreen on the other side of the room. "Who'd have thought Megatron and Starscream would end up being such adorable little kids?"

Ironhide tried to glare after the two little ones, but a fond smile kept threatening to break through. "I suppose they ain't TOO bad… they're at least shapin' up to be better than their old selves…"

"Exactly," Prime said suddenly. "That's it. That's what we'll do."

Spike and Ironhide exchanged a baffled look, then turned back to Prime. "Did… we miss part of this conversation?" Spike asked.

Prime chuckled. "My apologies. I got ahead of myself there." He motioned toward Metronix and Starscream, who were now whooping and cheering as they indulged themselves in a video game. "The solution to our Stunticon problem has been right in front of us all this time… we've just been too preoccupied to see it."

"You ain't meanin'…" began Ironhide.

"Think about it," Prime went on. "You said it yourself, Ironhide – the Stunticons were created to be destructive. That's all they've known their entire lives. They never spent time as sparklings, never had childhoods of any sort. If we give them what they missed out on, not only will we rid this planet of a dangerous menace, but we will help them become better mechs instead of simply sentencing them to deactivation or lives in prison. It's the perfect solution."

Spike had to admit it made sense. "Will the Council agree with it, though?"

At that, Prime's optics took on a positively wicked glint. "You humans have a saying – it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission."

Ironhide groaned. "We're gonna regret this."

* * *

><p>Hound was fiddling with the settings on his hologram projector, trying to make the false rock pile he was hiding behind look real without looking hyper-realistic, when Mirage's voice pinged over the radio.<p>

_How did I get conscripted into this ludicrous scheme again?_

The scout chuckled softly before replying. _Because you can turn invisible and you're one of the best shots in the Autobot army. And consider it a compliment – Prime trusts you enough to handle the immobilizer. That's a good thing._

_I'm not sure how well I enjoy being trusted with this… thing. What if it misfires?_

_Then consider it a chance to relive your childhood._

_You're not helping._

Hound just laughed quietly and huddled down to wait. If his instincts and tracking skills proved correct – and they usually did – this road he and Mirage were camped out by led straight to the Stunticons' hideout in a remote corner of the Nevada desert. The trick now would be to wait until they felt like emerging to commit further mischief somewhere else. Seeing as oftentimes days, even weeks, would go by between their escapades, he and the spy could possibly be in for a rather long wait. Hopefully they didn't get on one another's nerves too badly by that point.

_See anything? _he asked.

_Not so much as a buzzard flying overhead, _Mirage noted. _Are you sure this is the place?_

_Positive. They should be in that ghost town a couple miles down the road. I've seen them go in and out a few times._

_It's hard to believe they could be this quiet for this long… wait. _A tense pause. _One of the buildings just collapsed. Yes, they're in there, all right._

Hound nodded, feeling a grin of excitement tug at his lip plates. _Ready for this?_

_As ready as I'll ever be._

_Good enough. _He focused, and a second hologram materialized on the road before him. _It's party time._

_I wish you wouldn't call it that._

_Oh, cheer up, _Hound advised. _This'll be fun. _And he directed the hologram – the spitting image of Optimus Prime – to transform and drive away, heading directly for the Stunticons' hideout.

For a time the two Autobots were silent, the scout focused on controlling the projection and the spy doing his part not to break his concentration. It took considerable energy for Hound to maintain two holograms at once, and the farther away the Optimus hologram went, the more energy he expended in holding and directing it. If it went as far as a mile without results, he would have to recall it and re-energize before trying again.

Thankfully, that wouldn't be necessary today – a bellow of rage, audible even this far from the abandoned town, echoed through the air as Motormaster caught sight of the fake Prime, and the sudden roar of engines signaled that the Stunticons had taken the bait. Grinning widely, Hound deftly controlled the hologram, having it pull a U-turn and bolt away as if startled by the sudden appearance of Motormaster's team. He even did his best to create realistic dust clouds in its wake, so as not to spoil the illusion.

_You waste energy on details, _Mirage noted. _The Stunticons are idiots – they aren't going to notice such minor things as dust clouds._

_They're not… as dumb… as you think, _Hound managed to get out, still trying to concentrate on the hologram. _No more… talking… until this is over… please._

The hologram shot past at that moment, eerily silent. In contrast, the Stunticons whooped and roared and cackled as they approached their hiding places, in hot pursuit of Motormaster's hated rival… and passing directly between Hound and Mirage.

'_Raj, now!_

The sound of the immobilizer going off was unlike any weapon Hound was familiar with – it screeched like a bottle rocket, seeming to tear through the rumble of engines and the angry noise of the Stunticons. A ball of blue plasma seemed to appear out of nowhere, streaking directly toward the five vehicles. Too late they spotted the blast, and for a moment there was chaos as Motormaster tried to veer out of the way and Wildrider and Dragstrip banged into each other in their haste to escape…

Hound dismissed his holograms and flung himself out of the way as the plasma struck, bathing the entire area in a pale blue light. He felt every sensor in his network tingle as a weird energy swept over him, and for a pump-stopping moment he wondered if he'd gotten caught in the blast radius and was being regressed as well. But the sensation passed as quickly as it had begun, and a quick status check showed that nothing had changed except some energy drain from the holograms. Phew… that had been too close.

Mirage was at his side in an instant, grabbing his arm and pulling him to his feet. "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Hound assured him. "You cut that just a bit close, didn't you?"

"You were too close to the road," Mirage chided, dusting off the scout's armor. "Any closer and you might have been hit too."

"Aw, I know you're a better shot than that," Hound laughed. "So did it work?"

The two mechs turned toward the spot where the Stunticons had last been before the blast… and just stared in amazement.

"Oh my," Mirage murmured.

* * *

><p>"I just want to say that if this is about the bleaching agent in the wash racks, that happened a month ago," Sideswipe declared.<p>

"And I had absolutely nothing to do with that," Sunstreaker added. "I was an innocent victim, in fact."

"Since when were you ever innocent, Sunny?"

"Quiet, you two," Prime ordered. "I didn't call you in here to discuss that… incident. You're here because I have an assignment for you."

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, sitting in chairs before the desk in Prime's office, exchanged curious looks at that statement. Sideswipe shrugged, as if in response to an unspoken question, and Sunstreaker turned back to Prime with a puzzled expression.

"What do you mean, 'assignment?'" he asked. "You're not shipping us offworld, are you?"

"As much as Prowl would enjoy sending the two of you back to Cybertron, no," Prime replied. "I have something else in mind… a permanent assignment, but one I think the two of you would be uniquely suited for."

Sideswipe groaned. "Permanent? As in a job that never ends?"

"That's the usual definition of permanent, dingbat," Sunstreaker replied, elbowing him.

"I know what permanent means, Goldenrod," Sideswipe retorted. "And it means we're both stuck with it, remember?"

Prime had to chuckle at their reluctance. "You don't even know what the assignment is yet. At least hear me out before you complain."

"So what is it?" asked Sideswipe. "What are we stuck doing 'til the end of time?"

"Something I think you'll not only be suited for, but enjoy," Prime replied. "Very soon, more sparklings are going to be brought into our base. These sparklings are going to need good caretakers – ones that can watch over them, protect them, and raise them as decent mechs and Autobots. The two of you may be rough around the edges, but you've done well when trusted with other young mechs. I believe you will serve as acceptable parents for the newcomers."

He felt a slightly perverse sense of satisfaction at seeing both their jaws drop. The decision on who would be caring for their new additions to the base was not one he had taken lightly, and he had consulted with all his officers before making the final choice. Prowl was not enthusiastic about the final decision, claiming that putting their new charges in the care of the Lamborghini twins would just undo what they were trying to accomplish, but in the end he had found himself outvoted. Jazz and Ironhide agreed that under their rowdy exteriors the two had genuinely good sparks, and that perhaps the responsibilities of parenthood would help them mature a little more. Ratchet had only laughed and suggested that the twins might be as crazy as the newcomers, but perhaps they could teach the little buggers to be the right kind of crazy.

Sideswipe was the first to react to the news, grinning widely. "Dude, Sunny, we're gonna be parents!" He reached over and punched his twin's shoulder. "We're dads! Whoo!"

"Correction, _you're _a dad," Sunstreaker snapped. "Seriously, how can you be so blasted excited about being saddled with a kid…"

"Aw, Sunny, admit it, you like the kids!" Sideswipe countered. "And you're so good with Shockwave and Soundwave!"

"Only because they're the quieter ones."

"So you take the quiet ones and I'll take the rowdy ones. There, problem solved." He turned back to Prime. "How many? When are they coming in? How old? Mechs or femmes? Do they have names yet or do we get to pick those out?"

"Slow down, slow down," Prime advised, laughing at Sideswipe's eagerness. "There are five of them, all mechs, and they should be coming in at any moment now. I'm not sure about ages, and they are all already named, unless you want to change their names."

"What are their names?" he asked. "C'mon, don't leave us in suspense…"

Prime held up a hand to silence Sideswipe as a sound from the corridor outside caught his audial. It sounded like a sparkling crying, and for a moment he wondered if something had happened to Metronix… but no, this sparkling sounded younger, and the voice was wrong…

The door to his office burst open, and Hound and Mirage walked in, arms full of wriggling, noisy little mechs.

"Mission accomplished!" Hound announced.

"Oh, you've gotta be slaggin' kidding me!" Sunstreaker groaned.

Despite having planned this outcome to the mission, Prime couldn't help but stare at the new sparklings in wonder. Motormaster and his team weren't just smaller versions of their older selves – they were somehow softer-looking, sharp edges rounded and colors brighter. Dead End and Dragstrip were visorless now, and Dead End's face mask was gone entirely. And all five were struggling to escape their captor's grips, optics bright with fear and making cries and keens of distress.

"The Stunticons?" Sideswipe asked, turning to regard Prime with wide optics. "We're going to be parents to the Stunticons?"

Prime nodded. "The officers have discussed it at length, and we feel you two would be best suited to raising them."

Sideswipe stared at him a moment longer, as if unsure whether to take that as a compliment or not. Then he turned to Hound and held his arms out. Hound, sensing what Sideswipe wanted, carefully transferred one of the sparklings in his arms – Motormaster – to the red mech's hands.

"Hey, little guy," said Sideswipe soothingly. "It's okay… I got ya…"

Motormaster stopped struggling and stared up at Sideswipe in confusion, violet optics wide.

"I'm your daddy, little guy," he went on, adjusting him in his arms so he could get a secure grip. "So get used to this ugly mug, because it's not going anywhere anytime soon, all right?"

Motormaster stared up at him a moment longer. Then, to Prime's relief, he snuggled up to the red Lambo's chest and relaxed, accepting him.

"Aww… he's cute," Sideswipe noted, smiling down at his new charge. "Hey Sunny, help me with the others, okay? I can't carry them all."

Sunstreaker scowled, looking highly unamused at this new assignment. But Prime caught a smile threatening to break its way through, and he laughed softly. The yellow mech might put on a show of reluctance, but he, too, seemed taken with the new sparklings. At any rate, he didn't refuse Sideswipe's request, and soon he was taking Wildrider and Dragstrip off Mirage's hands, while Sideswipe somehow managed to fit Dead End and Breakdown in his arms as well as Motormaster.

"Take them to Ratchet first thing," Prime advised. "We want to be sure they're healthy and in good repair. Then have Red Alert add them to your room roster."

"That'll go over big with Sergeant Spazz," Sunstreaker noted, and he and Sideswipe made their way out.

Mirage watched them go, frowning. "Those two? Are you sure about this?"

"Positive," Prime replied. "The Stunticons were a rather energetic group before, and I doubt that's going to change. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker have been very restless since the Decepticons at large left Earth, so this will be a good outlet for their excess energy. It solves two problems at once."

"Smart," Hound noted. "Though I'm kind of curious as to how these guys are going to grow up."

"As we all are," said Prime, then motioned for Hound and Mirage to go. He had to prepare himself for another conversation, and he wasn't at all sure how it was going to play out. Hopefully it would go smoothly.

* * *

><p>Thankfully, Metronix reacted quite enthusiastically to the news. "More sparklings! Playmates!"<p>

Prime laughed softly and patted the young mech's back. "They're younger than you, and still very new and nervous. I want you to be careful with them, all right? Be gentle, and don't scare them."

"I won't, I won't," Metronix vowed, but he kicked his legs eagerly, optics glittering with excitement. "When do I getta meet them?"

"Any minute now. Remember though – be gentle. If you upset or scare them, a lot of people will be very unhappy."

Metronix nodded, though the look on his face made Prime wonder if his speech wasn't just going in one audial and out the other. He hoped the sparkling was taking his words to spark – he didn't want a repeat of the fighting that had gone on between Metronix and Starscream for the first few weeks, even if that had finally stopped for the most part. And seeing as Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave tended to follow Metronix's lead, seeing him as an older brother of sorts, he wanted to be sure he set a good example for the others in dealing with the Stunticons.

The noise level in the rec room shot up a few notches as Sideswipe and Sunstreaker entered, and several mechs paused in what they were doing to turn and stare. A cluster of young mechs gathered around the twins' legs, babbling at the top of their vocalizers and generally raising a racket. Motormaster stomped as he walked, as if trying to make up for his lack of height by being as loud as possible, and Wildrider and Dragstrip were chattering animatedly about something that Prime couldn't quite make out. Dead End sulked behind Sunstreaker, making Prime wonder if he had just been scolded for something, and Breakdown clung to Sideswipe's leg with a shyness that bordered on terror.

"That's them?" asked Metronix, optics wide.

"That's them," Prime replied. "Remember what I told you, all right?"

"'Kay." He slid down from the bench, tucking Spotty under his arm, and approached Motormaster. The black sparkling halted in his tracks and stared at Metronix, cocking his head to one side as if he thought the silver sparkling looked familiar but he couldn't place where he'd seen him before.

"Hi," Metronix ventured, sounding suddenly shy.

Motormaster looked him up and down, then grunted his answer. "Hi."

"I'm Metronix. What's your name?"

Motormaster looked down at his feet, abruptly struck by shyness as well. "Motormaster."

"Mo-tor-mas-ter… that's a funny name."

Prime winced, and braced himself for a bad reaction on the other sparkling's part. He was going to have to talk to Metronix about being more tactful…

"Yeah, it is," Motormaster replied matter-of-factly. "I like it, though."

"Cool." Metronix hesitated, unsure of what to say next. Then, completely unprompted, he held Spotty out to the other sparkling. Motormaster eyed the toy curiously, then reached out and took it.

"That's Spotty," Metronix explained. "You can hold 'im a little while."

Motormaster nodded, hugging the plush leopard close.

"Motor, what do you say?" asked Sunstreaker.

"Oh… thank you." He smiled at Metronix.

Metronix grinned back. "Wanna play Mario Kart?"

"What's Mario Kart?"

"C'mere, I'll show you!" And he grabbed Motormaster's free hand and pulled him toward the viewscreen. The younger sparkling followed, giggling.

"Well, that went better than I thought," Sideswipe noted, stooping down to gather Breakdown in his arms. "Hey kids, wanna go watch? Maybe you can learn how to play too."

"Yah!" Wildrider hollered, pumping his fist in the air. "Beat you there, Dead End!" And he bolted for the viewscreen.

"You always beat me," Dead End whined, but took off after him anyhow.

"Is that a racing game?" Dragstrip asked eagerly, running after his brothers. "Wanna play too!"

Sideswipe laughed, then patted Breakdown's back. "Wanna join them, Breaky?"

Breakdown shook his head and tucked his face into Sideswipe's neck. "Wanna go back to the room. Want Daddy Sunny to read me a story."

Sunstreaker smiled and held his arms out, and Breakdown squirmed from Sideswipe's arms and into the yellow Lamborghini's. "Keep an optic on the others, Sides?"

"Of course. You two have fun."

"Right, because endlessly reading _Rainbow Fish _to the little bugger is fun," Sunstreaker noted, though he didn't sound nearly as annoyed as his words suggested. He walked out, Breakdown snuggling against his shoulder and looking content for the first time Prime had ever seen him.

Prime chuckled softly and turned his attention back to the crowd gathered around the vidscreen, where Metronix was showing Motormaster the basics of the game while the other sparklings watched and cheered them on. Perhaps this was a highly unorthodox solution to the Stunticon problem – and doubtless the council was going to have a fit when they learned about this. But in his spark, he felt that they had made the right decision. And seeing how quickly Metronix had accepted the newcomers only made him feel more confident in this course of action.

He settled in to watch as Shockwave and Starscream came to watch the game, both giggling excitedly. After so many years of grim war and heavy loss, having sparklings around was proving to be the perfect antidote. And seeing them grow up to be good mechs provided the hope for the future they so desperately needed.

* * *

><p>Sunstreaker ducked into his and Sideswipe's room and shut the door behind him, frowning a bit at the cramped quarters. This room had been plenty big for him and his brother, but now with seven mechs trying to co-exist in a space meant for two, it was a tight squeeze for everyone. He'd put in a request for larger quarter with Red Alert, but he suspected said request was a low priority for the security officer at the moment. Maybe he'd have to swallow his pride and appeal to Prime – he'd be able to work out a solution sooner.<p>

Breakdown relaxed in his arms, the quiet and solitude seeming to soothe him. Sunstreaker rubbed his back gently, feeling a sort of kinship with the white sparkling. Given the choice, he preferred to be either alone or with his brother, and he wasn't keen on a lot of noise. Sure, he'd indulge in some rowdy activities with his brother, but he liked to balance that out with something more introspective, such as reading or catching up on his art.

"You okay, Breaky?" he asked, sitting down on the berth.

Breakdown nodded.

"You're not so fond of playing rough and loud, are you? Not like your siblings."

He burrowed his face against Sunstreaker's neck as if trying to hide. "…I guess…"

"Hey… it's okay to say yes. You don't have to be exactly like your brothers." He pulled Breakdown down to sit in his lap. "You can like or not like whatever you want. I'm still going to like you no matter what."

A rare smile crossed Breakdown's face at that, and he rested his head against Sunstreaker's chest. "Love you, Daddy Sunny."

Sunstreaker smiled back. He had to admit, he'd been less than thrilled about this assignment at first, especially when he'd found out the sparklings being entrusted to his and Sideswipe's care were regressed versions of the Stunticons. But all five of the sparklings had grown on him quickly, and even if they did get loud and rambunctious at times he realized he didn't exactly mind it. And despite the constant noise and mess they made, it seemed that at least once a day some spontaneous gesture from one of them – a hug from Wildrider, a simple "I love you" from Breakdown, waking up in the morning to find Dead End nestled in the berth beside him – would melt his spark and remind him that it was all worth it.

"What story would you like?" asked Sunstreaker. "_Rainbow Fish _again?"

Breakdown pondered a moment, then shook his head.

"What else, then? Want a chapter of Harry Potter?"

"Nuh-uh." He looked up at Sunstreaker with wide, worshipful optics. "Want a story 'bout you an' Daddy Sideswipe."

"A story about us, eh? Hmmm… how about the story where we went to Peru to stop the Decepticons from stealing a power crystal?"

"Yeah!"

Sunstreaker laughed and settled the sparkling better in his lap before launching into an exciting and only slightly embellished tale of the events in Peru. Having a Stunticon hero-worship him was new, but he wasn't about to complain. Trading the eternal hatred of a former Decepticon for the adoration of a sparkling seemed plenty good to him.


	17. One-Shot: Crush

_Written as a request for a friend. Hope she likes it. _

* * *

><p>This had once been Shockwave's academy, a place where young Decepticons were indoctrinated into the ways of war and absolute devotion to Megatron's cause. Countless innocent sparklings had passed through the doors, only to emerge again as fully upgraded adults ready to serve as warriors, weaponsmiths, and tacticians to further the conquest of Cybertron. And it hadn't merely been Decepticon sparklings who had been required to attend – the captured offspring of neutrals, even Autobots, had been brought here, to be swayed to the Decepticon side by constant exposure to propaganda and even forcible reprogramming, until they were little more than cannon fodder for Megatron's armies.<p>

Optimus Prime shook his head, trying to shoo away such negative thoughts. Yes, this place had a dark history… but Shockwave's academy was no more. The building remained standing, yes, but had been extensively renovated to erase all traces of its former purpose. And while it still functioned as a university, it would serve a less sinister purpose now – to educate rather than brainwash, and to provide a place of learning and growth for the new generation of young Cybertronians.

He turned to regard Metronix, wondering if he recognized this place from his former life. The young mech looked fascinated by the building, and even a little anxious about going inside, but if his memory was triggered by the sight of it, he didn't show it.

"Ready?" Prime asked.

"I dunno," Metronix admitted. "I'm kind of nervous…"

"It's university, not a torture chamber," Starscream piped up, lightly punching Metronix's arm. "What's there to be scared of?"

"Quite frankly, I'm excited about this," Shockwave put in, shifting the stack of datapads in his arms in an effort to get a better grip. "I'm quite looking forward to the advanced chemistry and astronomy courses, and I do hope the mathematics prove to be a sufficient challenge…"

"Only you'd be excited about math and science classes," Soundwave noted.

Prime couldn't suppress a chuckle. The four young mechs, each fresh from their adult upgrade, were about to take the next step in their new lives – entering the university, and learning the skills they would need for whatever paths they chose to take. And all seemed nervous but eager to attend, whether it was to learn or to simply make new friends outside their own close-knit group.

Prime had been slightly reluctant at first – part of him feared that Metronix and the others would face constant harassment and even abuse from their classmates. But Jazz had pointed out that it would be good for them to interact with other mechs their age, rather than be homeschooled and lose vital social skills. And Thundercracker had added (somewhat fatalistically, Prime thought) that they would have to face the general populace of Cybertron sooner or later, and it was better for them to learn how to deal with it now than to shelter them and make them unprepared for it further down the road.

Ironically, the only fussing had come from the Stunticons, and that wasn't a case of them being forced to go. Rather, it was a case of them being still too young to attend, and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker wanting to hold off on their adult upgrades until they were sure they were ready. The poor things had thrown quite the tantrum at not being allowed to go…

"Dad?"

Prime shook his head and turned to the side. "Metronix?"

"I said I'm off," Metronix replied. "Classes start soon."

He nodded. "Good luck, Metronix. I'll be by to pick you up this evening."

"You don't have to… I can make it home on my own." He laughed a bit. "I'm not a sparkling anymore."

That panged his spark slightly. These young ones grew up too fast, it seemed… and it felt as if only yesterday this mech had been running wild through the base, dragging his stuffed leopard around, roughhousing with the Dinobots…

"Take care," he told him, pushing those thoughts to the side for now. "Have a good day."

"I will." He looked back up at the university tower, then drew in a deep intake of air and strode inside. Starscream walked alongside him, while Soundwave nudged the last of his cassettes into his chest before following. Shockwave's progress was somewhat slower, as he kept dropping datapads and had to keep stooping down to pick them back up.

Jazz watched the four of them go, and chuckled softly. "They're gonna be fine, Prime."

"I hope so," Prime replied. "I just fear they may face mistreatment for their former lives."

"Don't worry, they'll be fine," Jazz assured him. "They're smart mechs, they'll know how to handle themselves."

Prime nodded absently, though he still couldn't help but worry. The younger generation of Autobots might not have experienced the full brunt of Megatron's cruelty in their lifetimes, but there were still bound to be hard feelings. He only hoped that the presence of instructors and other students would help to keep them in check.

* * *

><p><em>If this class gets any more boring, it could be used as capital punishment, <em>Starscream thought, stifling the urge to yawn. _I thought the university was actually going to teach us something._

The white Seeker was slumped over in his seat, elbows on the desk and chin in his hands, wings drooping behind him. It was taking all his willpower to stay awake – falling into recharge in class probably wouldn't endear him to the professor. Other students seemed to not even have that much self-control and were openly talking through the lesson, even drowsing at their desks. A handful were listening attentively, even taking notes, but for the most part History of Cybertron was shaping up to be a complete bore.

Their professor, an aged warhorse of a mech named Kup, seemed mostly oblivious to the general disinterest of the class, and was launching into yet another dull story about yet another dull battle in Cybertron's history. Starscream fought the urge to roll his optics. Who cared about what military commander was in charge during the battle against the Alternians before the second Golden Age? How did any of that apply to this day and age, especially given that the Alternians were extinct now?

He glanced to the desk beside him. Metronix was dutifully copying down notes on a datapad as he listened, an enthralled expression on his faceplate. Starscream was tempted to flick something over at his desk to break his concentration, just to see what would happen. How could he find any of this interesting? If this was dealing with recent history, he could understand its relevance, but dry facts about an era that even their creators hadn't been alive to see was another thing entirely.

The bell signaling the end of class went off in the middle of Kup's story, and even as he continued talking students got up and stampeded for the exits. Starscream gathered up his datapads and took off, barely hearing Kup's shouting at their backs to "get back here, the bell doesn't dismiss you!" He'd put up with the old clunker's griping tomorrow, he figured, but for now he was home free.

Metronix jogged to catch up with him, and he slowed to a walk to let his friend catch up. "How can you even act interested in what he's saying?" he demanded. "Primus, it almost put me to sleep!"

"I wasn't acting," Metronix countered. "It's fascinating stuff! There's been so much that's happened in our history, and so much of our archives on things like this have been destroyed or lost. First-hand accounts like Kup's are all we have left of it."

Starscream snorted. "How are stories about dead mechs and extinct races going to help us?"

"The past is there for us to learn from," Metronix replied. "Those who don't study history are doomed to repeat it."

"You stole that from a human book, didn't you?"

"Hey, the humans have valuable things to teach us too, if we just listen…"

Starscream rounded a corner… only to stop dead in his tracks, Metronix nearly running into him. A group of Autobots were blocking the hallway ahead, and judging by the cruel smiles on their faceplates he somehow doubted they were here for a polite greeting.

"Hey, it's the Decepti-creeps," a short, squat, blue mech noted, cracking his knuckles. "Thought we chased your kind out of Iacon for good."

Metronix managed a shy smile. "Hey guys… could you move? We're going to be late for our next class."

"Aw, did you hear that?" an indigo-colored mech, sleek and obviously turning into some kind of sports vehicle, sneered. "They want us to move. They think they still run the planet!"

Starscream took a step backwards as the entire group laughed darkly. Under normal circumstances he liked to think he could handle himself in a fight, and hated having to rely on his parents for anything. Now, though, he dearly wished Skywarp or Thundercracker were at his side. Maybe with one of them around, these guys would back off.

"We gonna show these Decepti-dweebs that no one bosses Autobots around anymore, Blindside?" a bulky tan truckformer demanded, rubbing his hands together.

"In a minute," the indigo ringleader replied, a lazy grin on his face as he looked Starscream and Metronix over, like a cyberdragon pondering which morsel to eat next. "Let these guys squirm a little first… let Megatron know what it feels like to be cornered and helpless for once."

Metronix's optics flashed, and Starscream couldn't help but cringe a little. If there was one sure way to push the normally peaceful helicopter-former's buttons, Blindside had just found it.

"Don't call me that," he said, his voice deceptively calm. His rotors flared out and his jaw clenched, betraying his anger.

"What, Megatron?" Blindside cackled. "Ain't that your name, Chopper-Con? Maybe you got others fooled by changing it to Mega-nox or something, but we all know better! You were created Megatron, you're always Megatron to us!"

"Stop calling him that!" Starscream barked, moving to put himself between Metronix and his tormenters. "And bug off or I'll…"

"You'll what, screech at us?" the truckformer demanded, and he picked Starscream up by a wing and tossed him roughly aside. "Go squawk somewhere else, birdie!"

Starscream hit the wall, not with enough force to do real damage but enough to stun, and fell to the floor. He pulled himself to his feet, shaking his head, trying to regain his bearings.

"Stop. Calling. Me. Megatron." Metronix's voice was cold now, but still level, and Starscream could hear that it was taking every scrap of energy he possessed to keep his anger clamped down. "My name… is… Metronix."

Blindside laughed and stepped forward, one hand raised as if about to slap him. "Decepti-scum don't talk back to Autobots here, Megatron…"

Metronix moved with such speed that Starscream could barely follow the movement. One moment the indigo carbot seemed poised to strike him, and the next he was pinned to the floor, Metronix wrenching his arms behind his back. He howled as if in agony despite the fact that his position shouldn't be putting him in that much pain, and as if that were the signal the other Autobots converged on the silver mech, piling onto him. Blindside screeched in real pain now as his cronies unwittingly trampled him.

"Metro!" Starscream hurled himself forward, punching and kicking at anything that didn't look like his friend. He was hoping to work his way toward the center of the mass and yank Metronix free, then take off with him while the others were busy untangling themselves. Primus, he wished he had his father's ability to teleport about now…

A sharp whistle cut through the bedlam, and a hand grabbed his shoulder vent and pulled him free of the mess. He whirled and nearly punched the hand's owner before he spotted the badge she wore – security guard. He managed to pull his blow just in time.

"Break it up!" the pink-and-white femme snapped, and whistled again. "You have five seconds to break it up before I start using a stunner!"

Most of the mechs staggered free of the mess and stood back, doing their best to look as if they were merely innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. Down at the bottom of the pile the squat blue minibot still had Metronix in a headlock and seemed to be doing his level best to noogie him to death. It took the pink security officer pulling her stunner from subspace and letting it buzz ominously over his head for him to let go and scurry behind his friend, leaving Metronix to push himself to his feet on his own.

"That's better," she noted, though the stern glower never left her face. "Now I want to know precisely what happened, and why you younglings aren't on your way to class like you're supposed to be."

Starscream opened his mouth to explain the situation, but he found the words wouldn't come. Now that he had a moment to process just who had broken up the fight, he couldn't look away from her. She was pretty… and while pink wasn't a color he normally liked to see on any mech or femme, she wore it as if it were the only color suitable for a school security officer. And despite her firm, no-nonsense tone, she had a beautiful voice…

"He started it!" Blindside insisted, pointing at Metronix. "I was just walking by and he jumped me!"

"That's a lie!" Metronix protested, looking up from where he was nursing a scuff mark in his chest. "You guys were blocking the hallway! And you hit first!"

"No he didn't," the minibot griped. "You attacked him…"

"Everyone knock it off!" the security officer shouted, overriding the slew of protests. "Blindside, Metronix, Starscream, report to the office. The rest of you, back to class."

"But I didn't do anything!" Blindside insisted.

"This is the second fight today that you've been involved in," she replied crisply. "I hardly think it's a coincidence."

"But Arcee!" he protested.

"Don't 'but Arcee' me," she replied. "The three of you, to the office. Now."

Blindside gave Metronix a death glare and stalked off. Arcee ensured he was on his way before motioning for the others to follow her. The hard look left her faceplate, and she offered the two of them a concerned expression.

"Are you hurt?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," Metronix replied. "Just a little dinged up. I'll live."

Starscream still found himself unable to say much, and settled for a nod.

"I'm so, so sorry about this," she told them, reaching over to touch Metronix's shoulder. "Blindside's been a handful for us. He's apparently a direct descendent of one of the former members of the Council, and shares their opinion that Decepticons are better off dead."

"We're… we're not Decepticons," Starscream managed to get out finally.

"I know that. The teachers all know that. The majority of the student body SHOULD know that, but apparently some are choosing to ignore that." She sighed. "I hate to drag you guys to the office when you're not at fault, but the dean is going to want a full statement from everyone so Blindside's creators can't contest his punishment."

Starscream mumbled something vague about it being okay, but privately thought that being dragged to Arcee's office wouldn't be such a bad thing.

* * *

><p>It was pretty much agreed that the former Decepticons' first day at the university had been something of a fiasco. Apparently Blindside hadn't just tried to bully Metronix and Starscream – he and his posse had cornered Shockwave and Soundwave before school and stuffed both mechs into a supply closet before classes had even started. Only a janitor needing a spare broom had saved them from spending the entire day in a cramped room.<p>

To say that Optimus Prime had not been happy with the day's events had been an understatement. Normally calm and understanding, he had delivered a blistering tirade to Blindside's creators when they had arrived to pick up their son, and only Metronix's insistence that the security officers had done everything they could to stop the fight had saved Arcee from a similar outburst. Blindside, for his part, had been suspended from school for a week (his punishment from Alpha Trion, the university dean) and received a scathing lecture of his own from his parents (though said lecture dealt less with harassing fellow students and more with embarrassing his creators in front of the Prime).

Now, after having related the entire story to their parents and countless assurances that yes, they were all right, and yes, they still wanted to return to school tomorrow, Starscream and Metronix were in the common room studying. Well, they had come in here with the intention to study, and their school datapads were spread out on the table in preparation for such an activity. But in reality there was far less studying and far more talking going on.

"You LIKE her?"

"Keep your voice down!" Starscream hissed, looking around the common room of Prime's base on Cybertron. Thankfully the only other occupants were Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and their unruly brood, and they were all too deeply engrossed in a Smash Brothers game to pay them any mind.

"Oh, Primus, Starscream," Metronix laughed, leaning back in his chair. "You have a crush on our school's security officer… that's either really crazy or really awesome."

"Shut up," Starscream growled, scowling. That just cracked his friend up even more.

"Why Arcee, of all 'Bots?" Metronix asked once he'd gotten his laughter under control. "She's old enough to be your creator."

"No, she's not," Starscream countered. "We're both a Pit of a lot older than her…"

"Don't tell me you're counting the 'before' time as your age," Metronix groaned. "Seriously, do you even remember anything from back then?"

He shook his head. "No… but that doesn't mean I don't still have a chance with her."

"I'm pretty sure it's inappropriate for school employees to have relationships with students. Besides, you barely even know her."

"I could get to know her."

Metronix rolled his optics. "You don't give up, do you?"

"Can't you say something encouraging for once? I didn't laugh at you when you admitted having a crush on my cousin."

"If I recall correctly you threatened to throw me to the Dinobots if I broke Glory's spark."

"That's not the same as laughing, technically."

"And that never went anywhere either." Metronix shrugged. "I dunno… I just don't really see Arcee as the type to go out with a younger mech. Or any mech, for that matter. She seems too caught up in her work."

"Prime and Ironhide are always caught up in their work, and they still have bondmates," Starscream pointed out. "Look, I'm not asking you to be the witness in a bonding ceremony or anything. Just to back me up, all right? Help me find a way to get her to notice me."

"Ones that don't involve you getting dragged in for disciplinary measures every day, I hope," Metronix replied.

"Is that a yes?"

"I guess… only to help keep your aft out of trouble. But I still think this is a bad idea."

Starscream just grinned before returning his attention to his textbook datapad. He had an ally in this, albeit a reluctant one. Now he just needed some sort of plan to get Arcee's attention…

* * *

><p>"This is crazy!"<p>

"You said you would help me!"

"Breaking and entering isn't exactly what I had in mind!"

"School doesn't even start for another hour, no one's going to catch us!"

"If you're so sure no one's going to catch us, why do you even need me here?"

"Just shut up and keep a lookout, will you?"

Metronix grumbled a bit but peered around the corner, playing the dutiful sentry. Satisfied that he was doing his job, Starscream returned his attention to the door of Arcee's office. Locked, of course, but he had a trick up his armguard…

It had taken him a few days to come up with a plan for getting Arcee's attention, one that didn't involve getting pummeled by Blindside again. During that time he had done his best to pay attention in his classes, avoid Blindside and his cronies, and generally try to fit in and do well at the university. Kup's lectures still put him to sleep, but not all his classes were boring – Skyfire's natural science courses were fascinating, and Wheeljack's chemistry class was exciting to the point of terrifying, especially when one of his "perfectly harmless" experiments had resulted in half the class being sent home early with scorch marks.

It was in Tracks' Human Culture class that he'd struck gold. They were currently smack in the middle of a unit on human literature, and Tracks had insisted the entire class read aloud some rather awful poetry written by some hack by the name of Shakespeare. Though the poetry itself was enough to make Starscream gag, it had given him the brilliant idea of composing a poem of his own… and perhaps leaving it for Arcee to find.

Naturally he wouldn't sign it – he wasn't stupid, after all. No, he'd let her wonder about the identity of her mystery admirer for awhile, perhaps see if she made a guess. What to do once she'd identified him… he had no idea. But he figured he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

The poem itself had been a challenge. Metronix was little help, so the two of them had gone to Soundwave and asked him for a little help composing a love sonnet. Once the blue cassette-carrier had quit laughing, he'd agreed, and the three of them had brainstormed what Starscream felt to be the perfect work of literature for the object of his affection. (In exchange for that favor Starscream had to agree to do Soundwave's mathematics homework for a quatrex, but that was a small price to pay to win a femme's spark, he figured.)

Now came the tricky part… leaving the poem somewhere where Arcee, and only Arcee, would see it. For that, he had to ply Soundwave for one more favor. And though it meant taking on the musician's science homework as well as math, he had to admit it was the perfect solution.

Metronix raised his hand in a fist, the signal for "all clear." Starscream nodded and pulled a cassette tape out of subspace, letting it unfold into a small mechanical bird. Laserbeak shook himself and stretched, working out the kinks in his joints, before looking up at Starscream with a curious chirp.

"Just leave this on the desk," Starscream whispered, handing him a folded scrap of filmplast. "And be quick."

Laserbeak chirped again and took the note in his beak, then turned to the lock. Raising one foot, he slipped it through a gap in the plating covering it, working at the wires. Starscream waited, holding his fans in anticipation. This was it… they were almost there…

"Up to no good, Decepti-creep?"

Starscream whirled so suddenly that he lost his grip on Laserbeak. The cassette-bird gave a screech of dismay as he hit the ground, flapping his wings rather belatedly.

Blindside stood right behind him, arms folded, a look of triumph on his faceplate that Starscream dearly wanted to wipe off with his fist. Behind the indigo mech were two of his buddies, the tan truckformer and the blue minibot. The truckbot had one arm wrapped around Metronix, pinning his arms to his sides, and his other hand was clamped over the helicopter-former's mouth to keep him from giving any sort of alarm.

"Really, Starscream, breaking into a security officer's quarters?" Blindside chided, clicking his vocalizer as if scolding a naughty child. "I knew you were a scoundrel, but not this much of one. Planning on planting a bomb?"

"You're not supposed to be here," Starscream pointed out. "Your suspension doesn't end until next week. And it's not a bomb." Why did everyone automatically suspect the worst of him?

"Why do I not trust you?" Blindside demanded, narrowing his optics. "You Decepti-scum are all the same, eager to trash Cybertron in the name of conquest… and I don't buy that you and Megatron over there have had a change of spark either. And I've got proof of it now."

"Hey Blindside, he's got a bird!" the minibot shouted, and made a grab for Laserbeak. The cassette-bird dropped the note in his beak and backed away, hissing, wings spread to make an intimidating show of force.

"Get the note, Hitch," Blindside ordered. "Maybe it's a threat, or a ransom note."

Starscream's spark skipped a beat, and he lunged for the note. Hitch moved too quickly for him, though, and snatched it up.

"Give that back!" Starscream shrieked.

"Nah, I don't think I will," Hitch replied, balling it up and tossing it to Blindside. The carbot caught it and tossed it idly from hand to hand, his smug grin never leaving his face.

"Should I open this?" he taunted. "Read it out loud for all of us? Or oh, I got a better idea… I'll sneak it into Alpha Trion's morning announcements. He's so old and senile he'll read anything over the announcements if you sneak it into his pile…"

"Give that back or I'll tear your spoiler off and stuff it up your exhaust!" Starscream roared, fists clenched in horrified fury.

"Whoa, violent, aren't we?" Blindside cackled. "Well, let's see what's got you so worked up, shall we?" And he uncrumpled the note and began to open it.

The next few minutes were a blur for Starscream. He vaguely remembered screaming in horror and leaping at Blindside… and he remembered straddling a body, and metal under his fists… he definitely remembered Metronix shouting for him to stop, and someone ordering Hitch to run and get help…

When he could finally think clearly again he found himself being yanked to his feet. He glanced behind him to see Kup pinning his arms to his sides, a grim look on the history professor's face. On the floor Wheeljack and Skyfire were kneeling to inspect Blindside, who was badly dented and had a broken optic but was sobbing and howling as if he were just an inch from death. Further back in the corridor, Tracks and Smokescreen, the math teacher, were trying to get a straight story out of Hitch, Metronix, and the tan mech, but all were giving contradictory versions of the events, and their voices grew louder and louder as each tried to be heard over the others.

"SHUT UP!" Kup roared at last. "Primus fraggit, a mech can't THINK with all this noise!"

"What's all this?" Alpha Trion asked, arriving on the scene at a casual stroll. The dean looked remarkably calm at this sudden interruption in the morning's preparations, and he seemed merely curious as to what the cause of all the racket was.

"I was preparing the day's lesson when Hitch came pounding on my door, saying something about Starscream killing a student," Skyfire explained. "I didn't believe him at first, but when I came out here Starscream had Blindside down and was punching him."

"And what was Blindside doing here in the first place?" Arcee asked, walking up at that moment. Starscream's spark flickered at seeing her… then sank when he realized she was seeing him like this, and he wanted to go creep off to hide and never come out.

"I was wondering that myself," Alpha Trion noted. "I was under the impression that he had been suspended."

Blindside glared up defiantly at Alpha Trion. "I'm not the one who's in trouble here! I wasn't the one trying to break into Arcee's office!"

Alpha Trion raised an optic ridge, and he turned to regard Starscream. "Is this true? Were you trying to gain access to her office?"

Starscream's face burned in shame, and he lowered his gaze to his feet. "Y-yes…" What had seemed like such a brilliant idea before now seemed incredibly stupid.

Alpha Trion regarded him a moment, his gaze inscrutable. Then he sighed softly. "Starscream, Blindside, Metronix, Hitch, and Pipewrench, my office at once. And I'm afraid I'm going to have to call your creators regarding this."

Pipewrench groaned. "Oh Primus, my old mech's gonna kill me…"

"YOUR old mech!" Hitch howled. "My mom's gonna have my head for a hood ornament!"

Starscream just kept his gaze on the floor as Kup marched him down the corridor, not even bothering to look up. Why had he thought any of this would be a good idea?

* * *

><p>In the end, Starscream supposed, he'd gotten off lightly. Under normal circumstances breaking into the office of a teacher or school employee guaranteed a suspension, but since he had a clean school record thus far he got off with a few days of after-school detention. Metronix could have received the same as an accomplice, but in the end was let off with a warning. Blindside's punishment for coming onto the school grounds during a suspension period had yet to be determined, but Starscream had overheard whispers about a possible expulsion. Somehow that didn't please him nearly as much as he thought it would.<p>

Thundercracker and Skywarp hadn't been too pleased to hear Starscream had managed to get in trouble at school, but in the end they had opted not to add on to his punishment – they saw that he felt bad enough about what happened and figured he had learned his lesson. Skywarp had even remarked that if Starscream didn't make at least one enemy during his time at the university, then he was being too boring and well-behaved – a sentiment that had Thundercracker rolling his optics in response.

To his embarrassment, he'd had to confess to both the dean and his parents just what the note had contained… and to his consternation Skywarp had nearly died laughing

"It's not funny," Starscream had grumbled.

"Aww, our lil' Seeker-ling's grown up!" Skywarp had giggled. "He's already got himself a crush… how adorable!"

"Da-ad!"

Thundercracker, thankfully, had come to his rescue. "All right, 'Warp, enough. He's had his pride broken enough today. And Starscream… I'm glad you've found someone to like. Really, I am. Just… try to find a more appropriate way to show your affection next time. One that doesn't break any school rules. Okay?"

He had agreed, and to his relief the subject had been dropped and his parents had left to go home. He had a feeling he was going to be enduring some ribbing about this from Skywarp for the next little while, but so long as no one else found out about it, he figured he could live with it.

Starscream walked out of Alpha Trion's office, sighing as he tucked a cassette-form Laserbeak back into subspace for protection. What a day. Maybe he needed to hold off awhile before trying anything like this again… and maybe next time he had a ridiculous plan like this, he'd run it by a few people before putting it into action. He'd rather not be humiliated a second time.

Idly he wondered if he'd ever had a plan backfire this spectacularly in the past. Unlike Metronix, who'd recovered some portions of his memory as Megatron over time, he hadn't even the faintest recollection of what he'd been like before his second sparklinghood. There were days when he figured that was for the best… but at other times, like today, he thought that perhaps it would have been good to have at least some memory of his past. Maybe it would at least teach him caution if he could remember his past failures…

"Starscream?"

He glanced up… and his first impulse was to turn and run. "A-Arcee?"

She smiled. "Hey, I'm not going to bite. I just wanted to talk to you for a minute."

He shuffled from foot to foot, unsure what to say. In the end, he opted to start with an apology. "Ma'am… I'm sorry… for trying to break into your office."

"Apology accepted," she replied. "They tell me you were just trying to plant a note."

He nodded, fervently hoping the note had been destroyed in the chaos. The last thing he wanted at the moment was for her to find out he'd left something like that…

"I found it on the floor soon after you were taken to Alpha Trion's office," she added, confirming his worst nightmare. "I didn't know you were a poet."

He covered his face with his hands, feeling his faceplates heat up in utter humiliation. "You read the thing?"

"Well, it was addressed to me, so I figured it was okay. It was very sweet… a little rough around the edges, but sweet." A pause. "Are you okay?"

He lowered his hands but kept his gaze fixed to the floor. "I shouldn't have written it. It's stupid. There's no way you'd like a stupid Decepticon kid anyhow."

"Hey, don't be so hard on yourself. You're a bright kid, Starscream, and whatever you were before doesn't matter now. You're an Autobot, and you're going to become a great mech, whatever you choose to be." She smiled a little. "As for liking you… well, it IS going to look a little dodgy if I start having a relationship with a student."

"That's what Metronix said," Starscream muttered. He wondered if his friend was going to rub his face into that fact at all. Probably not, Metronix wasn't the vindictive type…

"I tell you what, though," she went on. "Once you graduate, if you're still interested, we can try dating. See where that takes us. Can you wait until then?"

He drew in a deep vent and looked up at her, wondering if she was joking. She was smiling at him, but not teasingly – she seemed genuine. He smiled back a little, glad that she had found a gentle way to let him down.

"Deal," he replied. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're welcome. Just try not to end up in my office again – with or without my knowledge." And she winked. "Take care… see you tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am… see you tomorrow."

His steps were lighter as he headed down the hall and toward his first class of the day. He knew he was going to endure a bit of teasing from Metronix and Soundwave for this, and it might be awhile before he could even look at Arcee without blushing. But all in all things had worked out fairly well. And it seemed things would look up from here on out, especially if Blindside ended up not coming back to school for a while.

Though if Arcee thought his poem was actually halfway good, maybe he'd have to try again… even if he never showed it to her, it couldn't hurt to keep writing…


	18. One-Shot: Glory

_AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter of "Lost and Found" is a crossover with another of my fanfics, "Thundercracker's Glory." My apologies, but I just thought it would be adorable for Metronix to meet Glory... _

* * *

><p>The moment Starscream heard the fateful words come out of Thundercracker's mouth, he braced himself for something awful. Because nothing good ever seemed to follow that sentence whenever he heard it.<p>

"Starscream, we need to talk."

He tensed, winglets hitching higher, then set down the pieces to the building set he'd been playing with and turned to face the older Seeker. Thundercracker knelt beside him to put himself closer to the sparkling's level. With a bit of relief Starscream noted that the blue Seeker looked serious but not angry or grim, so whatever he needed to talk about couldn't be too bad. Still, he didn't dare let his guard down.

"I didn't do it," he said instantly.

"Didn't do what?" asked Skywarp, going to sit down on Starscream's other side.

"I dunno… whatever it is, I didn't do it."

Skywarp laughed. "It's nothing like that…"

"I already said sorry for the glue in Tracks' wax," he went on, determined to defend himself from whatever they came up with. "Soundwave spilled the paint in the repair bay, not me. And I didn't steal Huffer's spare tire – he's always blaming me for that but I didn't take it!"

Skywarp chuckled again and patted his shoulder. "Aw, Screamer, you're not in trouble."

"I'm not?"

Thundercracker shook his head, still serious but with a kindly light in his optics. "This isn't about anything you did. I'm sorry I wasn't clearer. But it's still important, and we need you to be prepared for it, all right?"

That sounded ominous, even if a punishment wasn't forthcoming. "What's happening?"

Thundercracker hesitated, as if wondering how to proceed, then steeled himself and spoke again. "How would you feel about another sparkling coming to the Ark? One that was related to you?"

He stared up at the blue Seeker. "I'm gonna have a brother?"

"Not exactly," Skywarp replied. "More like a cousin. A couple new mechs who are related to TC are coming to the Ark to stay, and they're bringing their sparkling. We wanted you to know before they got here, so you could be ready."

Starscream grinned widely. "Another sparkling!" He could barely keep himself from wriggling with excitement. Sure, there were already eight other sparklings in the base, but another one coming to the base was always good news in his CPU. And if he was a relative of Starscream's, that kind of meant he was already automatically friends with the newcomer, and had exclusive access to him that the others didn't.

Of course, he'd let the others play with his cousin – he wasn't that selfish. But in his CPU he was already planning all the adventures they'd have together, the games played and secrets shared…

"When's he gonna get here?" asked Starscream, jumping up into Thundercracker's lap. "Can he stay in our room? What's his name?"

"Whoa, slow down," Thundercracker urged, patting his back gently. "They're not going to get here for a few days, Starscream. And your cousin's not a he, by the way. She's a femme."

Starscream stared up at him, a sense of horror creeping over him. "A _femme?_"

"You make it sound like she's got Cosmic Rust," Skywarp noted, sounding rather amused. "And don't sound so grossed out. Glory's a great kid. So what if her base programming's different? She still likes a lot of the same games you and your friends do."

"Yeah, but… she's a femme! They're weird!"

"Femmes are not weird," Thundercracker corrected sternly. "And if I hear you calling Glory weird or any other names, we're going to have a problem. She's your cousin, and I expect you to play nicely with her and help her get settled in here. Do you understand?"

"I guess," Starscream muttered. Inwardly, though, he felt all his excitement and grand plans crumbling to dust. He didn't care what his parents said, femmes were _weird. _At least, all the ones on the Ark were weird – Elita, Chromia, Moonracer, Firestar, and Arcee. They didn't even look like they could transform, and their voices sounded funny, all high and annoying…

"Do I have to share my room with her?" he asked, making a face.

Skywarp cracked up at that. "Just a second ago you wanted to share a room with your cousin! But no, she's going to stay with her parents. Still, you'll have a chance to get to know her. You'll help her settle in, won't you?"

"Do I have to?"

"We'd appreciate it if you did," Thundercracker replied. "Remember how scared you were when you first got here? She's going to be feeling the same way. So she's going to need all our help to get used to this place."

Starscream nodded, feeling a little better about the situation. Maybe having a femme sparkling here would be a little weird at first. But somehow knowing he was going to help her settle in improved things in his optics. He could do this… he could show Glory around, be her guide, and maybe even protect her if anyone thought to make fun of her for being new or a girl or anything else. He could prove to his parents that he could be responsible, that he was capable of anything they asked of him.

And who knew? Maybe she'd turn out to be cool after all. If she liked to fly, that would be even cooler… but he wouldn't get his hopes up too much.

* * *

><p>Thundercracker didn't get a chance to vent his worries and frustrations to the Prime until the day of his family's arrival… and needless to say, Prime was a bit startled to suddenly get an audial-full from the normally quiet Seeker.<p>

"It's just maddening," Thundercracker sighed. "Here I thought we were making great progress with him, getting him to empathize with others… and he's refusing to interact with his cousin just because she's a femme!"

Prime couldn't suppress a chuckle at that. "If it's any consolation, it sounds like none of the sparklings here are too thrilled about interacting with a femme. I had to spend a few minutes explaining to Metronix what the difference was between a mech and a femme, and I'm still not sure he's entirely gotten it."

The two mechs stood near the entrance to the Ark, accompanied by Skywarp, Elita-1, and their respective sparklings as they awaited the arrival of Thundercracker's sister and brother-in-law. Metronix and Starscream were chasing each other in circles on the landing pad, completely oblivious to the adults, while Skywarp and Elita kept a careful optic on them to ensure they didn't go bolting over the edge. Red Alert hung back, his gaze sweeping the sky periodically, ready to start his security scan of the newcomers the moment they landed.

Decepticons seeking to change their allegiances was nothing new – Prime had seen his share of defectors over the course of the war. And with the war now over, many Decepticons were opting to switch sides over continuing to fight or abandoning Cybertron. Several Autobot bases and outposts reported a sudden influx in former Decepticons seeking asylum, and the Ark itself played host to a few of these turncoats.

Two of Shockwave's top scientists contacting the Ark and asking for safe refuge in exchange for as much military research as they could get their hands on was rather unexpected, however… especially given that one of them, Windblade, also happened to be the co-creation to Thundercracker, one of Megatron's elite soldiers.

"Think Shockwave will remember her?" asked Thundercracker suddenly.

"I'm not sure," Prime replied. "Shockwave has shown no sign of remembering his former self. It's possible he'll see her as just another stranger."

"Ah." Thundercracker gazed skyward, then abruptly began to chuckle. "She's going to have a field day with this. Her former boss suddenly being a sparkling. And it's gonna be ironic to see her daughter playing with him. If he lets her, that is…"

"Give them a little time to adjust," Prime advised. "Remember, Metronix wasn't at all sure about sharing his home with new sparklings at first. But he gets along with the others just fine now. Give Starscream time, and he'll accept Glory as just another friend."

"I sure hope you're right," Thundercracker murmured as an emerald-green jet soared overhead. He raised his hand, signaling the craft, and the jet waggled its wings in acknowledgement before veering around and diving to land just before them. With a few deft flips and twists of her chassis, the Seeker transformed and touched down lightly before Optimus Prime, saluting crisply.

"Sir!" she barked. "Decepticon scientist and Seeker Windblade reporting."

"At ease," Prime told her. "We don't stand on formality here."

"Oh good," she noted, a broad grin crossing her faceplate. "Shockwave always insisted on running a tight ship. Nice to know this place'll be a little more laid-back." She turned to Thundercracker and smiled even wider, opening her arms. "Heya scraplet! It's been ages! Where've you been?"

"Trying to stay out of trouble," Thundercracker replied, wearing a rare grin as he stepped forward to embrace her. "It just has a talent for finding me instead, though."

"Because your life would be boring if trouble didn't seek you out every so often." She hugged him tightly, then broke away. "Piston's on his way. He had to take the ground route – would have looked weird to the natives if a flying tank carrying a sparkling had passed overhead, I'm sure."

"The humans in this area have seen far stranger, I can assure you," Prime told her. "Welcome to the Ark, Windblade. If you have any questions, you're free to ask myself or any of my officers. We'll all do our best to help you settle in."

She nodded. "We brought that intel you wanted. The deal is we get sanctuary among you, no questions asked, in return."

"Of course," Prime replied. "We're not in the habit of turning mechanisms away who just want to find a peaceful escape from the war."

She relaxed at that. "We just want a safe place to raise our daughter. And since the Ark already plays host to sparklings, it seemed the safest bet." Her smile took on a playful tilt. "Even if said sparklings used to be our commanding officers."

"Speaking of which," Thundercracker murmured, reaching out to snag Starscream by the shoulder as he pelted by. "Starscream, this is your aunt Windblade. Say hello."

Starscream craned his neck to look up at her, mumbled a quick "Hi," then squirmed free and bolted after Metronix again.

"Wow, you weren't kidding," she laughed. "He's cute. And the other little guy's Megatron?"

"He hates being called that," Prime replied. "He prefers Metronix."

"Metronix… right." She nodded before turning her attention to the tankformer who had just climbed onto the landing pad, a much smaller mechanism clinging to him piggyback-style. The teal-and-gray mech carefully detached the sparkling from his back and set her down, then took her hand and led her forward to meet the others.

"My bondmate, Piston," Windblade introduced. "And our daughter, Glory."

Piston smiled a little and saluted with his free hand. "My pleasure, Prime sir."

"The pleasure is all ours, Piston," Prime replied.

Glory stared up at Prime, optics wide and bright with an awe bordering on fear. She bore the same chunky, soft-edged look that the other sparklings did, but she seemed to be a touch more slender and a bit lankier in the leg. Her armor was royal purple and silver, with a domed helm similar to Mirage's and curious slits built into her forearms and shins. She lacked a sigil, but that wasn't uncommon among sparklings.

Any further examination of her was cut off as she squeaked and ducked behind Piston's leg.

"Come on out, sweetspark," Piston urged, reaching back to pat her helm. "The Autobots are on our side now, remember? He's not gonna bite."

"H-he's scary!" she protested, clinging to her paternal creator's leg. "He's the Prime!"

"Easy, little one," Prime said soothingly, and he knelt down and extended a hand toward the young femme. "You're safe here. No one is going to hurt you." Should he bring up Metronix? Perhaps it would help matters. "And I'm a father too, you know. Perhaps you and my son will get along?"

Glory peeked out from behind Piston's leg, studying him as if trying to decide if he was being truthful or not. Perhaps if she met Metronix face to face…

"Metronix?" Prime called out. "Can you come over here?"

On the other side of the landing platform Starscream had finally caught up to Metronix and tackled him, and the two were rolling around play-wrestling. Upon hearing Prime's voice, however, Metronix squirmed free and hurried over. "Yeah?"

"Metronix, this is Glory," he introduced, pointing. "She's the sparkling we talked about last night. She's going to be staying here from now on."

"Oh." Metronix eyed her speculatively, as if trying to decide how to react to her presence. Glory stared at him a moment before tucking her face into her father's leg again, though more out of shyness than anything else.

"Hi," Metronix said at last. "I'm Metronix."

"I'm Glory." She peeked out from behind Piston's leg, but didn't emerge. "Uh… hi."

Metronix fidgeted, not sure what to say next. Then he pulled his battered plush leopard from its usual place under his arm. "This is Spotty."

Glory smiled a little, not at all put off by the sudden odd introduction. "Hi Spotty." And she held out her arm, showing off a bright green toy cyberdragon. "This is Dragon."

"Hi Dragon." Metronix reached out with Spotty, making the two plush toys bump noses. "Maybe they can be friends."

"I'd like that," Glory replied, and her smile widened a bit. Prime couldn't help a smile of his own behind his mask. This was one of the most adorable scenes he'd seen in awhile, and given that the Ark was pretty well overrun with sparklings at the moment, giving countless opportunities for cute scenes, that was saying something.

"That's your dad?" Glory asked, looking up at Prime apprehensively.

"Yeah." He grinned. "He's awesome. And that's my mom." He pointed over at Elita, who smiled and waved. "And I've got lots of uncles here, they're all awesome! Like Grimlock and Sideswipe and Sunstreaker and Jazz…"

Glory giggled. "You got a big family!" She looked over at Thundercracker. "I just got one uncle. But he's cool. He's a flier!"

Starscream had approached while the other two sparklings had been engrossed in the conversation, and at that last statement of Glory's his optics lit up in delight. "You like to fly?"

"Uh-huh!" Glory replied, nodding. "I can't do it myself yet, but Mom takes me sometimes. It's fun!"

"Awesome!" Starscream exclaimed, beaming. "My dads take me flying too! I'm gonna be the best flier when I'm upgraded!"

"Not better than Uncle T," Glory giggled. "He's the best!"

Thundercracker looked away, an embarrassed expression on his faceplate. "I dunno about the BEST…" he murmured.

Metronix held his hand out to Glory. "Wanna go meet the Dinobots?"

"Dinobots? Aren't they scary?"

"Nuh-uh! They're awesome! And Swoop'll take us on rides if we ask! He flies, like your uncle!"

"Ooh!" Glory looked up at Piston, her optics bright and pleading. "Daddy, can I?"

"I don't see why not," Piston replied. "Just be careful, and come when we comm you, all right?"

"'Kay!"

Metronix whooped and grabbed Glory's hand, pulling her to the base's entrance. Glory hurried to catch up, squealing with laughter. Starscream ran after them, waving his arms and calling for them to wait up for him.

"Stop those sparklings!" Red Alert shouted, making a grab for Starscream but just barely missing him. "The purple one hasn't been cleared through security yet!"

"It's a sparkling, not an intruder," Elita told him, though she wore a broad grin. "Ease up a little, Red. They're just children."

"I don't care how cute she is, she's not getting a free pass," Red Alert insisted, and he took off after the sparklings. "Stop those kids!"

Windblade muffled a chuckle behind her hand. "I think they're going to get along just fine."

Prime chuckled softly. Amazing, how quickly the little ones just seemed to accept newcomers without a second thought. Would that all former Decepticons were so easily accepted among their numbers.

* * *

><p>Soundwave was in the medical bay with his cassettes, helping Ratchet get them fed and settled down for a nap, when a voice made him freeze in place.<p>

"Whatcha got there?"

Instinct kicked in, and he wrapped his arms protectively around Ratbat. The purple cassette-ling chirped and wriggled, surprised at the sudden hug but not exactly complaining. Common sense told the blue sparkling that the Ark was a safe place, and no one was going to hurt his cassettes, especially with Ratchet around. Still, he couldn't help but be nervous… these were HIS cassettes, after all, and he felt responsible for them. And if anything happened to them on his watch…

He turned around slowly to find an unfamiliar sparkling staring at him, her head cocked to one side as she waited for his reply. For a moment his CPU scrambled to figure out what she was doing here. Jazz had told him there was a new sparkling coming to the Ark today – part of the reason he was hiding here in the medbay with his cassettes, since meeting new people was always a daunting prospect for him. Was this her, then?

"Hi," she greeted, waving. "Whatcha go there? Is that a pet?"

He bristled a little at that. "He's not a pet. He's a cassette." He hugged Ratbat tighter, making him squeak in dismay. "He's mine."

"I just wanna look," she insisted, looking put out. Then she brightened. "My name's Glory. What's yours?"

Soundwave shuffled his feet and looked down at the floor. Maybe if he didn't answer, she'd go away. He'd rather not have to deal with anyone new, even if they were sparklings. He still wasn't used to the Stunticons, especially since the first time they'd met him they'd immediately tried to get him to play-wrestle with them. Sideswipe had apologized for that, but Soundwave still avoided them whenever they crossed paths.

"What's the matter?" Glory asked. "I know you can talk. Do you not have a name?"

He chanced a glance up at her, then lowered his gaze again, mumbling his name.

"What?"

"Soundwave," he repeated a little louder. ""'m Soundwave."

"Ooooh… you have a cool name! Cooler than Glory…" She made a bit of a face at that, then smiled again. "Can I see your cassette?"

Ratbat flapped his wings, squeaking in protest, and Soundwave quickly relaxed his grip on him, looking him over to be sure he wasn't hurt. "Just don't touch. He's a baby."

"I'll be super careful," Glory promised, and stepped a little closer. "Hi, Ratbat."

The young cassette gazed up at Glory, twitching his audials curiously. Soundwave watched him intently, ready to yank him out of the other sparkling's reach if she reached out to touch him or Ratbat showed any sign of distress. Maybe Ratbat wouldn't like her, and that could be his excuse for not having to socialize…

Ratbat chirped, and to Soundwave's astonishment he pushed himself out of the blue sparkling's arms and flapped clumsily over to Glory. She gasped and held her arms out, catching him before he could hit the floor.

Soundwave blinked, astonished. "He flew!"

"Sorry!" Glory quickly held Ratbat back out to Soundwave. "I didn't mean to touch him, but I didn't want him to fall on the floor and get hurt! I'm sorry!"

"He flew!" Soundwave repeated, ignoring her apology for the moment. "He's never flown before!" He grinned, feeling a rush of pride at seeing one of his cassettes make such a big leap in progress. Sure, it had only been for a few wingbeats, but Ratbat had still flown! That was enough to make him forget about being nervous around the newcomer for a moment.

He held his hands out to Ratbat, wanting to give him a victory cuddle, but the cassette shied away from him, squirming closer to Glory.

"Go on," Glory told him. "Go to your daddy…"

Ratbat squeaked and tucked his head against Glory's shoulder.

"I guess he wants to stay with you," Soundwave noted, a little disappointed.

"I'm sorry," Glory replied, hugging Ratbat gently.

"It's okay," Soundwave told her, and to his surprise he realized he meant it. "He likes you. I… guess that means you're okay."

She giggled. "He's cute." She looked over at Ratchet, who was currently feeding Ravage, then at the nearby incubator where Rumble and Frenzy were rolling around, squealing and giggling. "Are those all your cassettes?"

Soundwave nodded. "That one's Ravage, the one Ratchet's got… then there's Rumble and Frenzy and Buzzsaw and Laserbeak…"

"Wow, you got a LOT of them!" She grinned. "Can I come visit them sometimes? I promise I won't touch… except Ratbat, I guess…"

"If they like you, you can hold them." He pointed at the incubator. "Wanna see the rest of them?"

"Yeah!"

Soundwave put a hand on her arm and led her to the incubator. If the cassettes liked Glory, then she couldn't be too bad. And she seemed nice enough. Maybe she would make a decent friend after all.

* * *

><p>"I've just got to say," Piston noted, "it's rather weird seeing my old boss like this."<p>

Wheeljack laughed, headfins blinking an amused amber. "Least he's easier to get along with like this, right?"

While Glory met the other sparklings aboard the Ark and Windblade got acquainted with the Autobots' aerial fighters, Piston had found his way to the science officers' quarters. To be honest, he'd expected to be rebuffed immediately, or at least greeted with suspicion. But Wheeljack had been nothing but friendly and welcoming, greeting him warmly and letting him in no questions asked. And Piston had been astonished to find Perceptor and Mixmaster working side by side on some chemical concoction, a young Shockwave looking on in fascination.

It had been an odd sight… but it was a good odd, at least. And Wheeljack had told him that one came to expect the bizarre to happen with regularity aboard this ship, so he supposed he should get used to it.

"Shockwave, I'm going to need the sodium bicarbonate next," said Perceptor, not looking up from the steaming beaker. "It should be on my workbench, in the container with the green lid."

"Yes, Father." Shockwave nodded eagerly and scurried off to fetch it.

"Are you sure it's safe letting the sparkling help with an experiment like this?" asked Piston, raising an optic ridge. Even back among the Decepticons, it was considered a serious breach of the rules to even allow a sparkling inside the labs, let alone taking one on as an assistant. Though he suspected that rule had less to do with sparkling safety and more to do with the head scientists often being so paranoid of their research and secrets being stolen that they didn't even trust sparklings…

"This formula we're attempting to recreate is perfectly harmless," Perceptor assured him, taking the bottle Shockwave handed him. "If we thought there was a chance this substance were toxic, volatile, or otherwise unstable, the youngling would not be allowed inside the laboratories. But seeing as its safe, I thought it would be beneficial for him to have some firsthand education."

"I dunno, if this is one of Mixy's blends, I'd be a little nervous," Wheeljack noted, though he laughed as he spoke, so Piston supposed he could have been teasing the Constructicon chemist.

"What's the matter, don't you trust me, trust me?" asked Mixmaster, giving his best look of wide-opticked innocence.

"No offense, Mixmaster," Piston admitted, "but when it comes to you and your concoctions I trust you about as far as I can throw-"

_BOOM_

When Piston regained his senses, he found himself lying on his back in a far corner of the lab, surrounded by shattered test tubes and twisted recording instruments. Somewhere off to the side Mixmaster was coughing noisily as he tried to clear noxious fumes from his vents, and a short distance away Inferno was hosing the entire lab with flame retardant foam. Funny, he didn't remember Inferno coming in… the fire truck must have heard the explosion and come running in while Piston was unconscious.

"…all right?" The words finally reached his audials as they rebooted after the blast. "Hey Piston, can you hear me?"

"I'm fine, Wheeljack." Piston reached up and grabbed the Autobot engineer's hand, letting him haul him to his feet. "What in the Pit just happened?"

"Just a minor miscalculation," Perceptor replied as calmly as if half his lab hadn't just exploded on him, brushing spattered chemicals off his chestplate. "It appears Cybertronian compounds and that particular blend of Earth components don't react well… perhaps a contamination of trace minerals." He frowned, as if realizing he'd forgotten something important but not sure what, then looked around the lab. "Are you all right, Shockwave?"

No answer.

"Shockwave!" Perceptor's calm evaporated, and he began to frantically wade through the foam that now carpeted the lab. "Shockwave, if you can hear me, respond!"

"Oh fraggit," Piston groaned. "Search the lab! He could be hurt, maybe knocked offline!" He immediately began scanning the lab, hoping to uncover the young mech. Never mind that this wasn't even his creation – he knew if it were Glory in his situation, he'd want every able-bodied mech scouring the facility for her.

"Someone needs to tattoo a sign to yer aft, 'Jack," Inferno grumbled, going to the mangled workbench and flipping it over to check underneath. "Somethin' like 'keep at least fifty feet from sparklin's an' anythin' else breakable…'"

"It wasn't me!" Wheeljack insisted. "Why is it that everyone always assumes the worst of me?"

Before anyone could fire off a reply, Piston plunged his hand through a mound of foam and immediately felt something hard, his fingers brushing across what could only be a small hand. With a quick yell of "Found him!" he pulled the little mech free of the mess, wiping him off as best he could with his bare servos. Shockwave lay limply in his arms, dented and so covered in foam and chemical spatter that barely any violet showed. A quick scan at least confirmed he was alive and not seriously injured, but it was still a worrisome sight.

"Shockwave!" Perceptor rushed to Piston's side and scooped the sparkling out of his arms. "Shockwave, I apologize from the bottom of my spark…" His expression was so stricken that Piston felt his own spark lurch in response.

The violet sparkling groaned, and his amber optics flickered online.

"Shockwave… are you all right?" Perceptor asked worriedly. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

Shockwave looked dazedly up at his father, headfins twitching slightly as he regained his bearings. Then a delighted grin split his faceplate, and he flung both his arms in the air.

"That was brilliant!" he declared. "Do it again!"

Perceptor burst into relieved laughter. "Another time, and in more controlled conditions for the next attempt." He shifted Shockwave to sit more comfortably in his arms. "For now you require a trip to the washracks, and a medic needs to examine you."

"Awww," Shockwave whined, but he didn't protest as Perceptor bustled him out of the lab, the red scientist leaving a trail of dripped chemicals as he went.

"Oh sure, leave us to clean up your mess," Mixmaster grumped.

"Let him go," Piston advised, chuckling. "Parenthood comes first in cases like this."

* * *

><p>Evening energon break had finally rolled around, and many Autobots were perfectly willing to call it a day and take the chance to relax. For several of them, it had been a very eventful day, and they were just glad that it had gone without any major upsets. New arrivals had been settled in with minimal fuss (save Red Alert still fretting that a sparkling could have gotten into the base without proper security clearance), the explosion in the labs had been cleaned up, and the sparklings seemed perfectly content to accept the newcomer among their numbers.<p>

It should have been a fairly successful day… so why one particular recent arrival was scowling unhappily at the proceedings was anyone's guess.

Kup stared into his energon cube, then back up at the table where most of the mechs with adopted sparklings were refueling. Metronix and Glory were talking animatedly as they drank, with Prime keeping a watchful optic on the two. Thundercracker and Windblade were engaged in conversation as well, probably catching up on what the other sibling had been up to in their time apart, while Skywarp played a board game with Starscream, Soundwave, and Jazz. Piston and Perceptor were looking over a datapad together, no doubt trying to puzzle out what had gone wrong with the day's experiment. And the Stunticons were chasing each other around the room, with Sideswipe and Sunstreaker trying in vain to get them all rounded up and seated so they could finish their fuel.

The green veteran just shook his head and took a long draught from his cube. Fraggit, this whole business of turning their most dangerous enemies into sparklings just plain creeped him out. Maybe other mechs, even officers, considered these age-regressed versions of Megatron and his top officers adorable, but no one seemed to stop and think just how disturbing all this really was. It was one thing to rehabilitate a criminal – he'd seen plenty of former scumbags, even war criminals, make a successful turnaround in their lives – but to do it in a manner that practically rewrote their lives for them just seemed unnatural.

That, and he was of the opinion that in a lot of these mechs' cases, said rehabilitation wouldn't do much good. Sparklings or not, their original Decepticon programming remained, and no amount of education or coddling was going to train that out of them. Sure, they might be a touch less ruthless from here on out… but who was to say that Metronix wouldn't grow up to have the same temperament and personality of his former self, and go on to repeat history and reignite this whole blasted war?

He'd tried to voice his concerns, but found himself in the vast minority. Everyone else had been charmed by the little mechs, and wrote off his opinion as simple paranoia. Kup had a sickening feeling in his tanks that if the worst happened, and Metronix, Starscream, and all the others grew up to simply be their old selves all over again, everyone else would be too blind to see it until it was too late.

Something tapped against his side, and he looked down to see a violet mech peering up at him with wide amber optics. It took him a moment to process the sight and put a designation to that faceplate, but when he realized he was looking down at Shockwave he did his best to not scowl down at him. If he ended up making the sparkling run crying back to his adopted parent, he'd never hear the end of it.

"Don't poke me," he grumbled. "It ain't polite."

Shockwave jerked his hands back and hid them behind his back. "Sorry."

Kup took another draw from his cube, not breaking optic contact. What did he want? Did the little mech recognize him from before? His last encounter with the sadistic scientist hadn't been pleasant for either of them, and if Shockwave remembered it and wanted payback…

"What's that?" Shockwave asked, reaching out to tap a set of weld marks in Kup's armguard.

"Don't poke me," Kup repeated, pulling his arm out of reach. "And those're old war wounds, kid. Got 'em in the disaster in the Clemency star system."

"Do they hurt?"

"Not anymore." It hadn't been pleasant at the time, of course, but then, trying to pry a sparkeater off of you before it could suck your life force out was never exactly pleasant.

"Why don't you get it fixed?"

"Because I'm fraggin' proud of my battle scars," he replied, a bit more shortly than he intended. "They're reminders of what I've been through, and getting them fixed would be an insult to my history. Not to mention the memories of those who weren't as lucky as I was."

Shockwave's headfins pricked up like the ears of a curious turbohound. "What happened at Clemency?"

Kup raised an optic ridge. Wasn't this little mech full of questions. Though truth be told, he wasn't exactly bothered by it. Indeed, it was a refreshing change of pace to have a young mech around who was actually interested in hearing about his past, instead of rolling his optics and groaning in boredom as some young punks he could mention were fond of doing.

"Siddown," Kup told him, patting the bench beside him. "It's a long story."

Shockwave's optics lit up in delight. "I love stories!" And he pulled himself up onto the bench and gazed up at the old truck with an expression of rapture.

"It all started back before you were even sparked… slag, before even Optimus Prime was sparked," Kup began. "Our crew was headin' out to the Clemency star cluster to investigate some weird energy readings… thought it might be 'Cons, but turned out to be something far more dangerous…"

Shockwave continued to stare up at him, totally enthralled by the story. Kup did his best to gloss over the scarier aspects of it and to keep the swearing down, but somehow he doubted the sparkling would have minded if he'd told the completely uncensored version. He listened attentively as the old mech described their journey to the star cluster, their encounter with a derelict freighter infested with sparkeaters, and the epic battle that had left their crew decimated but every last sparkeater destroyed – save one, which had made off with one of Kup's hands.

"Got it replaced, of course," he concluded, holding up his right hand and flexing the digits. "But somewhere in that star cluster a lone sparkeater lurks, waiting for my return… he's tasted my alloy and found it delicious, and I've got a feelin' in my tanks that he awaits the day he can devour the rest of me too."

Cheers and applause met the end of his story, and he glanced up to find his table occupied by every other sparkling in the base. Somehow, while he'd been lost in the recounting of the tale, the other sparklings had noticed what was going on and crowded around to listen in.

"That was awesome!" Starscream crowed, pumping a fist in the air.

"That must have been scary!" Soundwave added, though he wore a delighted grin.

"Tell us another one!" Metronix pleaded. "Pleeeeeaaaase?"

"Well, I…" Kup couldn't help a brief flush of pleasure, his faceplates heating up. He wasn't used to mechs actually _wanting _to hear his stories - his audiences were usually all too unwilling. "Shouldn't you be getting back to your parents?"

"Aw, please?" Glory begged. "Just one more?"

"Not one more, lots more!" Motormaster insisted. "Got one about racing?"

Kup glanced up at Prime, who was watching the entire situation with an amused glint in his optics. Upon making optic contact with the old warhorse, Prime nodded slightly, as if giving his approval. Kup nodded back and turned back to Motormaster.

"Have I got a racing story for you!" he told the young Stunticon. "It was vorns ago, when I was still a turbo-revvin' young punk myself, and I found myself marooned on the planet Velocitron…"

The Stunticons whooped excitedly and crowded closer to listen. Kup grinned as he went on with the story, pleased to have an eager audience at last. Perhaps these young mechs weren't so bad… and if they were willing to listen to a more experienced mech's misadventures, and learn from them, they'd turn out all right after all.


End file.
